[ when sam had gone home to delacroix and made the decision that for the foreseeable future, his war to fight was at home, it had been with a heavy mind. his last conversation with isaiah had been as confusing as it was enlightening, and sam couldn't quite find it in himself to pick a next direction. it was in part due to the fact he - and bucky, for that matter - had been all but benched, but knowing that zemo was behind bars and that walker was no longer carrying the shield managed to lighten the weight that karli's presence, out in the world, still held. that first night he'd laid awake, staring up at the ceiling, trying to organize his thoughts into a plan. he wasn't sure why he had the shield, still. wasn't sure if he should have let bucky...what? go back home? go off on his own? wasn't sure if, knowing that there were international criminals still after him, who had sarah's number, he should even be here at all.
( the thought that ate at him for hours, though, was the simple wish he found himself saying. the secret he whispered up into the slats above his bed.
i wish steve were here.
but even that wasn't a simple want. even that had its own complications. its own weight. so sam let himself want it, let himself miss steve rogers. and then moved on. )
waking up that next day had been clearing. if only because what he'd said to sarah is true - he can save the world, sure, but he has to start here. start with his world. his sister and his nephews, who he'd put in harms way. his family's legacy, which even his superhero status couldn't fix. focusing on the boat, and at least fixing it up enough to sell, was a task that sam could wrap his hands around and work on, even if he didn't - exactly - know what he was doing. the idea had come to him about finally calling in those favors, and the town turned out. it was the first breath of something good he'd had in what felt like some time, but even then it wasn't complete. still felt like there was something he couldn't quite close.
that was when bucky showed up, with his package and his super strength and a kind of quick synchrony that sam - a bit belatedly - realized he did miss. how quickly they were in step. how seamlessly bucky was suddenly, again, right there with him. and how seamlessly, again, it felt for him to stay. now that was something sam would need to dissect at a later time, something he probably thought of one too many times the night before, too. but for now bucky shrugs and sam puts a wrench in his robot hand and they get to work.
and it feels...better isn't the right word, necessarily. easier falls a bit short. it feels more right than it has any right to feel, and as sam directs bucky on where to go and what to focus on, he can't help but watch him nod. watch him go from one task to the next. deal with him being just as infuriating, and just as irreplaceable, as he has been through all of this. as the sun starts to lean more towards setting than rising, and Sarah heads back to the house to start on dinner with the boys, sam finishes up what it was he'd been doing and wanders back to the deck to find the super soldier, leaning against the frame of the boat as he waits for bucky to notice.
( he is absolutely not staring. nope. not at all. ) ]
You know- you're a lot better at this than I thought you'd be. [ his voice sounds a bit thoughtful. wistful, even. because for whatever reason, when he thinks about the winter soldier, or even just the grumpy, staring freak of a cyborg that bucky has turned out to be, seeing him on a boat in the gulf of Mexico with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a red tint to his face didn't quite...fit the image. but at the same time, it did. now. in this moment.
sam's got his arms crossed over his chest, his shoulder pressed up against the frame. when bucky does finally look up to him, sam will lift a brow, then shrug. it will feel casual, and normal, and maybe, just maybe, way too comfortable for either of their comfort levels. but sam will (for bucky's sake, of course) not acknowledge that. ] Either way, Sarah and the boys went home- you want a beer?
[ being benched is one of his least favorite things, he's decided. partially because of the association of what used to happen between missions (wait. don't move until there's an order. stay frozen.) and because it currently gives him too much time to think. think about how zemo's disappointment at the bullets hitting the ground wasn't just about proving he was a killer but because the man genuinely wanted out. how bucky, himself, thinks the winter solider doesn't personally deserve an out and so he would never try to take one. think about walker's dive off the end. if that serum karli and him share does anything to the mind. it's from isaiah so it wouldn't turn their bones red like he used to have nightmares about his own being before every night turned into a montage of kills. if sam got discouraged by isaiah. if sam got discouraged by john. or karli. or zemo. or sharon. or him. he hopes not. he thinks... he's getting it more than he did. the magnitude of it all.
he wishes steve were here.
the decision to try and ...do something for sam by just handing him a case full of the means to take on something sam's not even sure about wasn't one he had to mull over terribly long. bucky's sure about it. steve was. he doesn't have to use it. it should be an option though. he's had the idea in his head longer than the last few days so it comes to no surprise that when he put the favor in, word returned that shuri hilariously already had everything close to done done before the request reached her. typical.
he debated maybe giving sam some space or something but one of the only things that makes him feel like himself is following wherever it is that shield goes. perhaps it's utterly foolish but it's why there's not a large gap of time between when sam last saw him and the delivery. he wasn't called for this group project and he thinks he's definitely intruding on some level but nobody tells him to go so he stays. close to that shield and close to the person it belongs to now, regardless of if he's wanted or not.
it feels right just fixing things. having something to do. someone that doesn't mind him. someone who doesn't think he has an easy kill switch. a whole family that doesn't think twice about his presence there and smiles like it's the easiest thing in the world. big and wide and full of life and light regardless of any burdens. sam smiles wider than sarah and so much here at his home. with the family. it's contagious and loving and not directed at him.
does he know a lot about boats? no. he just knows enough to make some educated guesses. an efficient solider can make his own repairs. he's pretty sure he knows more about pipes than him. and wiring. and knots. he tries not to point it out and just inserts himself in where he can make something easier, probably in a more irritating manner than if he just pointed out an easier way. sam's got the lead and he follows it without question. sam's a natural leader. bucky forces focus on the tasks to not to think about how easily he follows him too hard.
the day's work was closing out with that incoming sunset. he's sort of watching it while sam finished up, sitting close to the edge of the boat while packing the tools up. he likes sunsets. wakanda had the best ones, completely picturesque, but this one has something he can't really place. the water adds something. the smell of it. the very gentle rock the ties on the boat will allow. the creek of the wood beneath sam's feet while he moves over. ]
Should've went into sailing. [ steve would've thrown up too much, he thinks immediately. he shakes it away. elbows rest on his knees as he turns to look up at him, head tilted a little. his eyes sort of narrow out of habit because he doesn't blink as much as he should be when he looks at him. ] Yeah, sure.
[ it would take sam's entire supply and maybe then some to get a buzz going but it's about the social aspect. it's normal. friends have beers and he can't think of the last time anyone offered him one. ]
[ there is certainly a kind of magic in the sunsets in lousiana. sam had known that since he was a child, since it was just him and his sister and his parents out on the waves. things had never truly been easy, but it had been good. it had been comforting and loving and everything sam needed to know that the world out there, and the america back here, was worth saving. he could meet a lifetime full of isaiah bradley's and he could spend years questioning the reason why he wants to do this, why he would ever give himself over to a cause like this, follow an ideal like this, but coming back home? was all the reminder of why he needed. coming home gave him the same sureity that steve rogers once did.
and maybe that's why he doesn't turn bucky away the second he sees him there. why he doesn't send that old bag of bones and metal packing, as soon as he delivered the case. he has an idea of what's inside, has a vague understanding of what bucky is trying to say by delivering it, but in knowing what would be waiting for them would mean acknowledging that he's still thinking about it. still reconsidering a decision he had been so sure of, not months before. sam doesn't like going back on anything he's decided. he likes jumping first and figuring it out on the fall. but going back up into the plane? a wholly different story.
sarah and his nephews were a world worth fighting for, just as maybe - just maybe - america could be too. but it did take him coming home. sleeping in that bed. being in that house. and now it's being out on this boat, chipped paint reminding him every day of his parents, of the life and job they built. the work they put in just for this sunset, in this moment, to happen.
everything they did, for sam to be sitting here and watching it, with bucky.
it should feel weird. not that long ago, it would have felt weird. but something about their search for the super soldiers and dealing with the flagsmashers and freaking baron helmut zemo had shifted not only sam's understanding of what weird is supposed to be, but what should be housed under it. what isn't, really, all that weird at all. like how strong bucky really is, when it comes to work and not punching through walls. like how easily he delegates, how quickly bucky picks orders up. part of him wonders if it's just the work of the gulf water and the warm air, or if there's something else to this comfortable sort of air, but bucky says shouldn't went into sailing and sam snorts out a laugh. ]
Let's not get cocky. [ said with a friendly, joking tilt to his voice. a low watch yourself now that curls ever so gently around sam's almost smile. bucky looks up at him, and sam's brows both rise, waiting for an answer, and nodding once when he agrees.
sam turns, then, moving towards the back of the boat where it's wider, where there's more room for them to sit and where the cooler is tied down, and settles into a seat. he doesn't check to see if bucky gets up to follow him, just moved with a kind of expectant ease. (when did that start?) and when bucky walks by, sam will offer him up a green bottle - cheap beer, really, but it's something. it's social. it's the concept of it. and when bucky takes it, sam holds on for just a second longer, just to catch bucky's eyes. ] If you drink all my beer, you're buying the next case- got it? [ said with just seriousness that while it's joking, it's also not. an acknowledgment that maybe he knows bucky doesn't have to drink. maybe he knows it won't actually do anything for him. but he is here, and he didn't say no, so sam will take this as a win.
he pops off the cap before tossing the bottle opener over to the other, leaning back in the seat and taking a long drink. ]
Thanks for helping out today.
[ easy conversation. they can do this as long as bucky doesn't bolt. ]
[ he doesn't know how sam got up the courage to live anywhere away from this place. it's nice here. calm. peaceful but lively in a way that balances out perfectly. washington, d.c. over this? it makes sense to fight for this though. it really does. sam's a hard one to really get his reasoning out on things for but he'd like to learn. is trying to really understand it all from the perspective that he just doesn't have because how could he? he has to do better.
he was a little too quick to judge sam. especially with regards to assuming he hadn't thought anything through. the nostalgic ideal of captain america was what was presented to his head before his memories came back fully and he thinks, probably, that left a mark. losing him put a gloss over those memories. and it shouldn't have. he knew him.
and steve never, for a second, had a solid plan. him being the man with a plan was propaganda song lyrics. that guy used to pick fights with people four times his size and didn't think it through at all. he'd go charging into battle after battle, not checking his six because he knew, rightfully, bucky and the rest of them watched it for him. steve was wonderful leader because he knows how to recognize everyone's strengths and delegate everyone a goal. every plan was just goal points. we go in and win is not an actual damn plan and bucky was always left figuring out how to make it happen. do this and he does, having to figure out how along the way. then it was all of shield, sam, natasha, and presumably every other avenger working it out. (no way steve thought of time travel) and the goal gets reached. every time. goal reached so great plan.
sam takes the shield and becomes captain america is not a plan. it's a goal. once again, he's realizing, steve rogers has left it to his team to figure out how to get there. thanks, you jerk.
sam does a lot more thinking than steve ever did. comes up with actual plans, even if he's making them up while in the process of jumping. there is one eventually. it's obvious now when it wasn't so clear before. the orders he gives on the boat come with the plan on exactly to do it. if they didn't know, instructions were pulled out. people were asked for input. he's not assuming everyone else will figure it out because sam hasn't had someone saving his ass all his life. sam is smarter, more aware of everyone to a degree nobody else he's known has been and thinks of the consequences to his actions. he wouldn't be a good captain america, he'd be a better one. bucky owes him an apology. ]
Too late. [ his lips curve into a smile then scrunching his nose up and straightening his back, nodding to himself with his gaze on the water like he's seriously considering a career in fishing. he shakes his head. nah.
he gets up and follows behind, watching sam's back. the fabric on the shirt shifting. he doesn't sit once sam does, deciding to linger for a moment before moving to where he's decided to sit on sam's left.
the beer doesn't come right away and the words give him a brief pause before letting out a very reserved genuine chuckle, his head ducking. ah, so he knows. ] Got it. [ where do you even buy beer around here? that big grocery store on the road? those places are so overwhelming. too many options.
he sits, pulling the cap off the beer effortlessly with his hand before the bottle opener gets tossed over. ah, hell. he just... holds it awkwardly. ]
[ well, that's part of the story, isn't it? something idyllic, something to come home to, something he always missed when he was away. a place that was his own, but also wasn't his own, but a memory of his family. of the warmth of community, a well-worn coat that he knows how it fits, no matter how long it's been between each time he slips his arms into it. he never really wants to leave it behind when he does, but there are greater callings. worlds to save. avengers that call on him. and really, maybe, there's even more to it than before - having been on the run for years, then blinked away for more. it's something he really only appreciates the way it should probably be appreciated now.
now, with bucky here. now, as he's opened up this part of his life and his self and his home, to bucky too. even steve never made it this far into sam's life, never met his sister or his nephews (granted, at the time they were barely even kids). steve never made it this far home, with sam. but seeing bucky among the boats, the nets, the people, the parts - it shouldn't have been this easy and it shouldn't have been this seamless, and yet here they are.
and maybe bucky wasn't too far off, at the beginning of all this. being mad at sam for not sharing plans, commenting about how sam didn't think things through. because while part of that is inherently wrong - sam thinks these things through - it's the other half of it. it's the fact sam was either following orders, or making decisions for himself. it's the sharing of those plans, it's the concept of someone else looking to him to make the decisions, that sam wasn't prepared to do. bucky invited himself on that first mission, and sam didn't know what to do. bucky continued to follow him, the two of them becoming inherently intertwined as they chased down the super soldiers, karli, the flag smashers.
what sam learns, along the way, is that they have to talk. god damn, they have to talk. more than communication with a capital c, but just knowing where they are. how to have each other's back, how to step into fighting together. because, as bucky probably noticed because sam certainly did, they weren't good at that. they did not have a history of being good at it. so they needed to do better. five months of unanswered texts later, now is there chance. and bucky's not going to be the one who does it, isn't going to be the one to talk or speak or reach out, so sam will. he'll fill that space. he'll do that job. except that that job has turned into much more than that. that job has shifted to a place where sam tells bucky to go grab that wrench and to go pick up that crate and turn this and no, he didn't need help with that but sure, fine, use those crazy freaky super strength powers. whatever.
too late. ] Apparently. [ but bucky smiles - even if it's just for a second - so sam grins back. a promise of a full-chest laugh somewhere in the creases. he drinks from his bottle, leans back into the seat, is comfortable - really and truly comfortable. the sun on the horizon is warm on his skin, the boat is drifting comfortably in the waves, and bucky is laughing. or well- close enough to it. bucky chuckles and ducks his head and sam watches him, still grinning a bit himself. watches, as if he turns away from him he'll miss something.
the bottle opener gets tossed and bucky holds it awkwardly and sam, realizing very suddenly that he can pick up on that awkwardness and he gestures over to a box off to bucky's left. a silent you can put it in there. ]
Is there a story there? [ sam asks, one brow up. it's easy, not pressing, more of sam's 'i'm just trying to make conversation' tone than any kind of pressing conversation. he means the boat, means bucky feeling comfortable here, on this boat. sam wonders if there's anything there for them to connect about, or if it's just a comment, a connection. ] Or are you just an overachiever? [ that part is a joke, mostly because sam has also noticed - or thinks he noticed - a kind of lack of weight on bucky's shoulders. a kind of...not sincerity, necessarily, but honesty to the word. sam is curious. sam wants to know more. but also, more than anything, sam wants to know if they've actually come as far as he thinks they have. ]
[ bucky doesn't have a home. he has a places he occupied the space of. none of the fights to emphasize a place to look forward to returning. he didn't belong anywhere because home was a person. he'd follow home to the end of the world. he lost that and found himself following around the person that had the closest little piece of that and gave it away. for reasons he thinks better of now but it doesn't mean it didn't hurt. it wouldn't be the same, never the same. but it could be something.
how nice it would be to have all of this though. somewhere full of memories, a sense of belonging and community, family. he's jealous of sam.
bucky doesn't want to stop overstaying his welcome today. chilling here with sam until the sun sets seems like an ideal concept. warm and listening to the waves and sam's soothing voice full of harmless jabs at his entire strange being. he's not going to convince sam to keep drinking with him though. that man is far too responsible for that and will likely try working more on the boat at the ass crack of dawn. and he doesn't know how to start talking long enough that time can be lost track of. he's not going to make that move. he will have to get up and catch a flight eventually and then wait for an excuse to follow him again when the flag smashers resurface. if he wants help with something after that, he'll follow too. because something feels right about doing so.
or he just has nothing better to do.
his eyes widen at the gesture in an odd embarrassment. the bottle opener and the bottle in his right hand. he turns to put them both down on the box, then picks the beer back up. oops.
attention back on sam, mimicing his eyebrow raising intentionally then hanging his head a bit and shaking it. ] Not really. Never been on a boat before, actually. [ he pauses, looks sidelong. shoulders lifting with the start of a shrug. ] That's not true. I sank one once with a rocket launcher. [ he drops his shoulders, turning his eyes back on sam expectantly, like he's waiting to get a reaction to a joke. ]
[ except that bucky could have a home, if he wanted to. could have a place to settle, to slow down. sam understands bucky's issues with his original decision regarding the shield, and to a point he understands why bucky had been so upset with him. he gets it, he does, but he also knows there is something dangerous in holding on that hard to something that couldn't hold back. but if bucky wanted something else. if bucky wanted to be somewhere else. that could always work. that could always happen.
and bucky does fit into the vision of what this is, and sam can't decide if it's more surprising that a place with so many memories and so much history could easily mold itself to include one more, or if it's more surprising that he's not at all surprised.
dinner will be ready soon. they have some time, about an hour or so before he needs to heads back home. sam is in no rush, though. and as bucky sets the opener down and picks the beer back up, sam can feel the tension in him. can feel the unasked questions. the fact there seems to be something else under the surface that he won't bring himself to ask. sam takes another drink from his bottle, leans back in his seat, and feels the waves slowly lap against the side of the boat they're now on.
at first, he looks surprised. impressed, almost. that is, until bucky shrugs, once. continues. and it's at that second part of his comment that sam laughs, truly and honestly laughs. it starts off as a chuckle, but after a second or two grows to something bigger, and it takes a few tries before he can stop himself enough to take another drink of his beer. ] So you sank the boat while you were on it? Damn. [ he shakes his head, equally entertained by the fact he found that so funny and the fact bucky is cracking jokes at all. ]
And hate to disappoint you, but there are no rocket launchers on this boat. And I refuse to let you sink this one, so you'll have to entertain yourself some other way.
[ it's dangerous to hold on to something that can't hold back. he won't allow himself to presume anything that could hold back would though so it's all he has, he thinks, and all he knows. really knows. a lot of his memories, the ones that that aren't stained with blood and seem like they play on an endless loop every night, still feel detached. blurred. like trying to watch a picture through bad reception. anything from childhood, parts of the war, school, dates, his family - nothing's clear but blood and everything comes out looking red. and steve. he could remember him better than himself. blue eyes and kind radiant smiles. the shield had red on it, of course, but it wasn't red in the way everything else was.
until very recently, where they both got to see it dripping with blood. what if that makes it all fade away? he needs something else to hold on to. he wants something else to hold on to. this place, the person sitting next to him - clearer than anything. dark brown eyes and blinding smiles that stick in his head while other things rupture. but he won't assume. he can't keep this. it feels like it belongs to someone else.
bucky is overwhelmed, tense, wound up knots more difficult than any in the nets on this boat. there's a lot that should be said. wants to ask. they're horrible at communication and he has absolutely rancid social skills.
but he's trying. and it got a laugh that's contagious and drops some of the tension he's been carrying. ] Mmhm. [ he nods, small laughs escaping past the tip of the bottle he raises up to sip. he never gets the beer in his mouth because he starts laughing about it more, catching him off-guard. tension popped like a balloon. ]
Nobody told me to get off it. [ he points his beer towards him to add an additional fact to it: ] I actually escaped with that dumbass move. They lost me for a whole week and a half.
[ that came out so easily. he seems to realize it and it reels in the laughter. doctor rayner needed months to even get a word out of him and it was never recalling anything. not a peep. he rubs under an eye with a finger, confusion slipping into the smile that's still there, at least. ]
[ sam gets that - how dangerous it can be and how hurt bucky has already been. there is trauma inherent in the life bucky has led, even if you took away the actual, fucked up shit he had to survive through. childhood, war, the aftermath, losing your best friend, trying to find your place again - even if you took out the entire part of being the winter soldier, it makes life complicated. it makes this complicated. the shield might have been the closest thing he had to family, and sam knows why, he gets it, but it shouldn't be. not when bucky does need someone to hold back. not when bucky deserves more than the cold reflection of vibranium painted red and blue.
but then again, maybe bucky should be looking for a person, rather than a place, at all.
sam isn't going to force anything on him - bucky has spent too much of is life with his choices made up for him. orders given and little else. and that's not sam's way. that's not his gig. but he can, here, give bucky the space and time and assurance, can't he? he can give him an easy job to accomplish - sand this, twist that, here, bring that to me, hey thanks man - and enough space to pick if he wants to do it at all, and then maybe, also, a chilled beer that won't do anything to him except give him a reason to just stay, for just a few minutes more.
and it's amazing, sam thinks, that when given all those things, bucky can settle in and crack and joke and even laugh, just like that, which in turn makes sam laugh any more. ] Nobody told you to get off it? So what- you just stayed? You shot off a freaking rocket and thought 'oh hey maybe I'll stick around'? [ sam gives up on trying to take his next drink, his head thrown back a bit by the force of his laugh, one hand on his ribs as if in some shallow attempt to hold it back.
they lost me for a whole week and a half bucky says, and sam barely even recognizes the significance of it, his own laugh still lingering in the air, his breaths coming a bit short. he shakes his head, still amused by the picture of it, when bucky continues and sam - almost comically - goes very still and way too serious, frowning as he looks over to him. ]
You see that? Not funny. You're not getting anywhere near my car. Not after last time. [ one beat, and then one more, before sam's face breaks out into another grin, another laugh, because ah. bucky's funny now, is he? he's got jokes. and something about that realization, that feeling of how far they have come, how simply that had slid into conversation, makes sam feel...what? lighter? more comfortable? warm?
a moment passes that doesn't feel weird. doesn't feel heavy. sam's eyes move out to the ocean around them and the slowly setting sun and has to remind himself that this isn't how it's always been. that bucky, being here, is new. but like in direct opposition to that understanding, sam's body feels like it slides into something older. something comfortable. the kind of feeling that makes him think bucky has always been here, in a way. or that maybe he should be. ]
[ sam has a complicated life as well. a lot that doesn't need to be weighed down by his own. bucky's broken beyond repair possibly. but sam has been having to deal with too much, decisions about that shield aside. there's other people, war, losing his best friend, losing his (their) best friend again, having his entire family jump 5 years ahead without him. five years he won't get back that are different from any years he lost and will always exist. bucky doesn't know how sam keeps smiling so warmly, checking on him when his own shoulders have so much upon them. such an admirably strong beacon of warmth and determination. a kind soul that takes all his problems and still helps everyone around him. someone that an entire community would rally behind just because he asked. offering direction but never orders. sam is someone he wants to stare at and ponder like the sun just past the waves. and he already has a staring problem.
he has to get out of his hair soon. sam's just too kind to tell him to leave. sam's giving him a beer because that's good southern hospitality, isn't it? sam wants to take a vacation and wouldn't mind if he never saw him again - but once this is over they're on significantly more amicable terms, at least. so that's good.
the beer gets rolled between his hands and he nods, an amused grin on his face and sam's response to it. ] Yup. I just stood there on an exploding sinking boat until I was underwater. [ sam's laughter makes it all seem lighter and almost gets him going again but he's biting his upturned lips instead, preventing it.
he can crack jokes. he doesn't think he's funny half the time -just unintentionally funny. the therapist scolding him for cracking inappropriate, ill-timed, very dark jokes. "it's not funny, james." finding light humor in anything he did while completely brainwashed was apparently a horrible idea to everyone else but sam. sam goes still and serious so he freezes, swallowing nothing in his throat and then staring at him with puzzled gaze. the frown has him sinking in his seat somewhat. he leans forward. sam says his response. the beat feels drawn out and his eyes dart off sam to a few random places on the boat, squinting even further. searching his unclear memories for when the hell he has ever seen sam's car. has he seen sam driving a car at all? steve drove them to the airport and he didn't break that car. zemo didn't crash the car. sam starts laughing and he smiles at it but still looks absolutely puzzled for a beat more.
and then it clicks and he starts laughing harder than he thinks he has in about 100 years. Head leaned back and he has to shift an arm to keep from losing balance and going over the edge of the ship. ] I didn't know that was your car when I took the steering wheel. [ He wheezes the words out.
he savors the moment that passes, the high from a good laugh. the beer has a rather large sip taken out of it just to wet his mouth after that. this, right here. feels like the peace he wants. free. he hasn't felt free, even if he is. he feels a little drunk from it all and he knows he can't be. ]
[ bucky isn't the only one making a decision in that piece, though. because sam's life might be complicated, might be weighted, but it's the life he chose. with the people he chose. and maybe, just maybe, bucky's included in there. maybe he wants bucky to be here, whether or not he'll be the one to close that distance and say it. he's not one to downplay is own struggles or hardships over the last few years, and he's definitely not simply okay, because nothing in life is ever really that easy or uncomplicated. but he does have to keep moving forward. he does have to keep going. and in still going, he can check on those beside him, he can still focus on his family, on his teammates, on bucky - too - when he's here.
sam does find himself thinking about that - about how bucky didn't have to show up here. package delivery aside, he wasn't the type to do anything he didn't want to, or stick around if he didn't want to. more than even that, it was bucky who offerred to help. who was a huge help. and who sam couldn't help but notice, for himself, how good it was to hav him around. he may have a staring problem and may be a 100 yar old cyborg assassin, but. well. he's here. and he's laughing. and sam can't help but stare a little bit, himself, for it.
because that's just it, isn't it? sam doesn't force anything in his life. he jumps out of planes and checks in on his people and he's there, he's always there for anyone who might need it, but he's not the type to take anything for himself. to push people, closer or away. he wonders how much longer he'll get to have this moment before bucky leaves, and wonders directly after that, if there's something else he could do about it. ]
You have got to be kidding me. That's- oh my god, Buck. [ laughter is easy, a bubbly sound that fills him from toes to fingers, and sam just lets it. he's warm, he's light, they got good work done and he feels like he's doing something for someone again. the boat might not be fixed (yet) but it really is all thanks to bucky's help that they moved leaps and bounds forward. he gives bucky a look, a kind of i can't believe you before shaking his head.
he sees the way that bucky tenses when his own face goes serious, the panic and a bit of confusion there. sam would feel bad, if he didn't know what was coming, if he wasn't - in a childish, giddy sort of way - excited to watch it land. it's ridiculous, really, and if sam were anywhere else, with anyon else, he probably wouldn't be acting this way. but this is them, this is what sam has found when he falls in step with bucky.
that is when bucky barnes starts laughing, really and truly laughing, and sam's grin simply grows at the sight of it. the laughter looks good on bucky, sam realizes, and he can't bring his eyes away from watching him. the light way he simply reacts. the kind of - what? levity? - that finally seems to force its way through him. sam's brow arches up as bucky nearly falls off over the edge of the boat, and then sam is laughing again, himself.
the feeling is mutual - the peace, the drunken warmth of it. they're only a beer in, so sam knows he's not drunk either, but the feeling is a good one. sam's eyes haven't really left bucky at that point, either, catching onto little details he hadn't noticed before. how young he can look, when he relaxes. the way his face breaks a bit when he's laughing. the fact that he does, even now, favor his right hand and not th metal one. he's right handed sam reminds himself, then shakes his head as if to quiet the thought. ]
Doesn't matter. That was the first time I met you, and I am never letting you drive my car. Ever.
[ there is barely any weight at all to sam's words, his smile still hanging onto the corner of his mouth as he takes a drink from his bottle. unsaid in those words are the years (years) they've now spent together, fighting side by side even when bucky was out on the run. even when things still weren't settled. they are nowhere near where they started, and that thought is almost dizzying. ]
[ sam wilson has been making choices easy for years, actual years - ones he lived. sam wilson has existed in every year he can remember in it’s entirety after 1943. he counts to over a hundred but he’s old on a technicality. the people that he should be the same age as him, based on birthdates, are grey and he doesn’t remember time like they do. he remembers horrible things - and events where sam seemed to be a constant of ease. ever present, even while actively avoiding him.
when they found him that first time, sam treated him like a person. not someone to be feared, pitied, etc. just a guy who he won’t move a seat up for and could shit on like anyone else. minor bickering that threw him off so off hard at the time that it ended up pulling him out of the foggy haze to try and bicker back to match the energy. nobody else was treating him like a full person from day one like that. it made him think clearer. things became easier then.
easier now. too easy. there’s no pressure being put upon him except for what he adds himself. sam doesn’t provide constricting lose/lose scenarios that leave him feeling like there’s no choice. he decided to follow him. he decided to come here. that was all him even if he felt like he had to at the time.
he didn’t. but he did. if he looks, sam offers options and guidance he can accept or refuse when he doesn’t know what to do. there’s support. there’s always been support being offered. a hand on his shoulder at a funeral. a text with an open invite to respond, if he so chose to. a beer, if he wants to linger. ]
Seriously. That wasn’t even the first time that happened. [ He grins, wide and toothy at the look Sam gives him. ] I’ve done it with a helicopter too. There was this... [ The beer moves to the left hand. His right used to point, tracing a finger over his forearm. ]
This dent right here at one point where I caught the blades when it ...ya know, I crashed the damn thing.
[ it hurt like hell, he remembers. That’s not exactly as funny of a anecdote but the grin only slightly faulted - sticking the landing into staying on because of Sam’s expression. They’re laughing. They’re laughing and everything’s fine.
He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so at ease. Bucky covers his mouth, trying to stop himself from going further into the laughing fit and out of a slight embarrassment for not knowing he did that at all to Sam’s car until just now. The larger grin on Sam, the biggest he’s ever seen on the guy. There’s light in his eyes.
He gets sent him over and Bucky has to cover his face with his palm, body shaking from something he can’t stop and has to run it’s course. It’s loud and he’s unused to the sound.
He drags the hand down his face once he manages to catch his breath enough, dropping it. ]
Ma always said to make a strong first impression so I’m not apologizing.
[ Making light of that time he tried to kill you all? With anyone else, this wouldn’t happen. Bucky can be solemn, reserved, soft spoken even - but Sam has drawn out his humor. His jabs, volume in his voice. Sam makes him feel the age he looks. Lighter and not weighed down by the past as hard.
He wants to keep feeling that. He wants to keep this going. His beer is emptied (too quick! He internally admonishes himself) and he stares at Sam’s shoes to try and not stare at his face and hide how red his own feels from the giggle fit he practically nosedived into.
[ there are days where sam can see the age in bucky's shoulders. not because of how he hunches, not because of some frail bending of his spine. if anything, it's the way bucky just keeps going, even when he's bent. even with the weight of every year those fuckers forced on him bearing down. sam has a lot of thoughts about what bucky is doing with his time, about how he's working through that weight on his shoulders, but he will not force. he's spent too long around too many other soldiers to know how poorly any of them react when pushed. and it's built up a habit in sam - to check, to ask, to bring up in words. even if it's casual, even if it's light.
and it's funny, looking back and noticing how light it's all become. because that's just it, that's what sam can't quite shake when he looks at bucky. the dark lines that had been under his eyes, the lost expression in his face. the way steve looked at him, broken and torn apart and stitched back together, and said we could do this. and then, because steve had said it, sam could say it too. bucky did not get special treatment from him. and sure, yes, the whole super power freak show was a new thing for sam at the time, but what better way to get involved than to just not care? not bring it up? bucky never scared sam, whether it was because of steve or because of what sam saw in those blue eyes when he finally got close enough to look. and thinking back on it now? seeing bucky barnes who is laughing so hard on his family boat that he may just tip over the edge. bucky barnes, who had looked so unsure when he asked if he could help. bucky barnes, who is here, who is here, and who sam couldn't want anywhere else.
he finishes his bottle, then, though the last bit of it gets caught in his throat as he find himself laughing again, spitting beer onto the floorboards in front of him as he coughs his way through, holding up a it's okay, i've got this hand just in case bucky thought it was anything more serious, and sam shakes his head. ] You... [ he coughs, again, but it's more of a laugh this time than it was before. ] Are a menace to society. Boats and helicopters- what next? Jet planes? You already destroyed my wings before, so we're not counting those. Tanks? [ sam shakes his head because now he's being ridiculous, and moves to toss the bottle into one of the empty boxes. it rattles, a satisfying sound, and for half a moment sam feels like his sixteen again. before he ran off to the air force. just sitting around, shooting the shit, sneaking beer while his parents weren't looking. it's a comforting feeling, but more than that it's a warm one. like bucky has always been right here, right in that seat, right across from him in the lousiana sunshine.
they're not really talking about anything, at this point. casual, easy conversation that sam can keep bouyed for days, if he needed to. but sam finds he doesn't really have to, because as he grabs the next bottle and settles back into his spot, bucky is laughing again. cracking open and pouring out a kind of noise that sam can't help but match. he wants to keep laughing, giggling around like they're kids hiding under the dock, and it takes a few seconds for them both to be able to breathe. bucky drags a hand down his face, says ma always said to make a strong first impression, and sam is suddenly a bit frozen to the spot. there's still a smile on his face, though it's something a bit more thoughtful, a bit warmer, a bit more thoughtful. he's struck by the feeling of it, of the moment that surrounds them both, and while everything in him is screaming don't make this a big deal, he also has to take into account the space. the time. he's invited bucky into his home, introduced him to sarah, the boys. they're sitting around, drinking beer, and laughing, and bucky. well. ]
I think that's the first time you've mentioned your Ma to me before. [ there are no expectations in his words. if anything, they're just a statement of fact. an observation that sam seems...pleased. proud. touched, almost, to be a part of. but that voice echoes again. don't make this a big deal. and so sam takes a breath. settles back against the edge of the boat and watches bucky for a second, just one, before he snorts another laugh. ] Now- I didn't know your Ma, but pretty sure she wasn't talking about literally ripping the steering wheel from someone's hand when she said that.
[ easing any possible silence bucky may fall into. bringing it back to neutral ground. but god, he wants to know. ]
[ sam doesn’t hunch. his broad shoulders are squared off, strong and unmoving. bucky thinks of the way sam carries himself like those shoulders are capable of carrying the weight of the universe while flying off into a sunset. he might actually be able too. sam can pick it up and eventually put it down. the way bucky carries himself is off - he tilts with his steps, a shoulder shift, because there was an arm attached to it that weighed five times more than one he was born with. now it’s only three times but the shoulder had to stop being flesh and bone completely. the damage is there, irreversible- weight impossible to put down. would likely damage further if he tried to do what sam could. he won’t carry himself like sam because he can’t. but he can keep up with him and not yield. there’s no extra pressure. he can keep pace on his own time. at least one person is checking that he won’t topple over without forcing a thing and that’s enough.
he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. sam put trust in him and in return has wormed his way into gaining an undying loyalty. it’s not servitude or anything one sided. mutual respect and enjoyment. an actual friend that makes him feel giddy and light like a good night out. sam insisted they needed a long vacation from each other but-
sam laughs hard enough that he spits and bucky sits straighter automatically, empty bottle placed to the side and watching to see if he’s needed before he goes to move in. still smiling but ready to take action had sam started choking or something. because his first instinct is that it would be something serious. the amount of times steve almost killed himself by suffocating... but you can’t coddle, over-worry. wait. there’s a hand up that everything is good from sam and slouches back down, easy smile on his face. laughing too much ] You’ve seen me wreck a jet, haven’t you? Those were jets on that thing, right? [ bucky pauses to consider it, smile shrinking and decides not to focus too hard on how he definitely shot a pilot and hijacked his plane. a few times.
he’s shakes his head, holding his hands up. back to light laughs. ] Yes but- hold on. The tanks I started on during the war. That’s approved of menacing. [ nazi tanks are a-okay. the bottle is grabbed back after there’s a clang from Sam’s landing in the box. bucky flips his in his hand then tosses it in after. it lands next to the other one - silent. show off.
his cheek is resting in his hand now, smiling with amusement. he doesn’t realize how it slipped out. the implications of it. not until sam points it out in a way that doesn’t seem so large. his eyes move off his shoes and back to him. the smile slips off completely into a thoughtful straight expression. he blinks - slow and long and puzzled. he looks back at sam’s shoes. when was the last time he mentioned his mother at all? it’s been a long time. he’s never shared much about his home life with anyone. therapy sessions tried to goad it out and all she got were basic factual answers anyone can find in the museum. ]
Huh. [ sam let’s it hang there with zero expectations. bucky sinks into quiet thoughts. sam moves on after a beat to continue their light-hearted nonsense to break it, he expects. bucky smiles lightly at the words but doesn’t reply for a moment more. there’s that excuse to talk... ]
Probably not what she meant, yeah. [ he nods to himself. quiet for another moment more. and then decides to keep going down that path. sam’s entire family, community- is out on display. heart on his sleeve and bucky’s been holding his own in for what feels like an eternity. he takes a deep breath then starts with words quieter than the ones said through laughter he just had. ]
Tough lady. I mean, had to. There were four of us. Hit me with a spoon a couple of times. Passed when- I think I was ... thirteen or something? [ he cups his hands together, rolling his thumbs around each other. he shrugs. his eyes find their way back to Sam, open. a small smile. go ahead. ask. ]
[ sam might be able to, maybe. he's worked his whole life learning how to stand up straight, to carry whatever it was that pushed down on him. it had been a prideful thing for his dad, when he was growing up. always keep your chin high and your sights higher. and that's what sam did - kept carrying on, shoulders square, reaching higher and higher until he literally needed wings to get to where he wanted to be. higher and higher, until riley fell. but maybe that was a lesson sam had to learn that his father didn't have for him, something that it took his own experiences, his own losses, to really wrap his head around. specifically, maybe, that he shouldn't be carrying this weight alone. and for all of bucky's crooked walks and tilted shoulders, he had the strength and he has the stamina and sam has found, over these last few weeks, that maybe sharing this weight isn't as hard as he thought if he had someone else by his side.
the shield is back up at the house, unceremoniously leaned up against the doorframe of the living room, because sam couldn't store it in his room. the shield isn't even his (again). not really. no decisions have been made and no titles have been taken and for all that bucky's wakandan delivery acts as the loudest box in the county, sam hasn't fully accepted what is happening. hasn't really, fully, decided that this is what he wants to do. but maybe steve had the right idea - maybe a captain america does need a bucky barnes. or maybe it's just sam wilson who does.
bucky sits up when sam starts to cough just like he knew he would, and sam waves him off. pulls himself back together and then starts laughing, again, when bucky mentions the jets. ]Okay, fine, over-achiever. Yes- I'm pretty sure you destroyed the entire S.H.I.E.L.D airbase, but we took down the Helicarriers, thank you. [ sam can see bucky trip up, the smile falling and tension filling the space, and sam pauses - just for long enough to see if bucky's going to settle there, or if the lightness of the evening is going to win out. and maybe, just maybe, sam shouldn't feel as proud, or relieved, or whatever it is he feels, seeing bucky shake his head and laugh again. whatever the feeling is, it fills sam's chest with the same sort of warmth left in the air between them.
bucky mentions approved of menacing and sam opens his mouth to argue, or contradict, or say something - but it's that exact moment that bucky flips his bottle and tosses it into the box next to sam's empty bottle, and anything sam wanted to say leaves him in a rush, instead leaving room for - ] Are you kidding me? Show off. [ because they're always on the same page, aren't they? even in this. even now.
and then it is the moment, when sam takes a leap of faith. jumps right on out of the plane and into the open air, waiting for the moment that his wings will catch. that is the feeling sam has watching the smile fade from bucky's face, but rather than seeing something close back up again, get filed back into a room that sam doesn't have access to fully yet, he sees something else. something he thinks is thoughtful, something he thinks is complicated. the silence feels like it stretches out forever, sam's very own heart rate slowing to match the gentle rocking of the waves.
huh.
that is the moment that sam starts to question - if he should fill the space, if he should give bucky a way out. he doesn't want to turn all of this into an interrogation - if bucky doesn't want to say anything more, he doesn't have to. it's why he supplies the follow-up. why, even now, he's prepared to derail the conversation entirely. but before sam could continue, before the words make it out to shift the focus away, bucky speaks. not just speaks, but shares. don't make this a big deal the voice echoes again, but sam is entranced. isn't even sure he breathes.
it's not until bucky finishes, looking back over to sam with a small smile, that sam feels his heart start back up again. feels himself breathe. the weight of the moment is still heavy in the air, but it feels less like a burden and more like a comfort. bucky looks over to him and sam looks back to him, holding the eye contact for another moment or so, seeing the permission there. ]
I'm sorry. [ sam knows what it feels like to lose a mother. while he'd been a little older than thirteen, the loss never really goes away. not when it comes to mothers. to half of the name of the boat under their very feet. bucky has basically told him to go ahead, to ask, and he nearly feels paralyzed by the chance. ]
and that is a fact that sam has stated at the very least three, if not four times already, and they've just now arrived at the bar. sharon had mentioned a possible lead. a contact that she had who might have more information on the serum. except the problem arose when sharon, who had clients expecting her to be at this party, wouldn't give her enough time to chase after it. somehow, it was still early enough in the night to warrant a possible meeting, but without sharon able to leave her own party, the lead would grow cold. sam felt gutted, that they could be this close and that the information would just disappear, but with their bounties and half the city looking to claim a quick prize, it wouldn't be feasible.
bucky, apparently, didn't agree. he suggested that he and sam go meet the lead, that there's no way their bounty from lowtown wouldn't hold the same weight up here. sam wasn't so sure, but when sharon agreed that it was their best bet, that without the intel there was no was to track down the serum, there wasn't really any chance to argue. though sam wished he'd fought a little harder about leaving zemo at home.
which means that sam is on high alert as they borrow sharon's car and head to a club right on the border between high and low town. it means he's on even higher alert as they hand off the car to a valet and head inside. sam is pretty sure he can feel an actual target painted somewhere on the back of this nice leather jacket, but he supposes if they move fast enough they can make it inside, find the contact, and get out before news starts to spread. ]
You- don't go far. [ he hisses to zemo as they make it through the doorway, giving him a definitive look. before he can really see how zemo responds, sam is following bucky directly to the bar, eyes scanning the crowd. they've got twenty six more minutes before they're supposed to meet up with their contact, which means blending in, not attracting attention, and biding their time. sam leans back against the bar with a comfortable sort of ease, looking the part of a casual club-goer, as his eyes follow zemo across the dance floor - apparently whatever drink (or whatever else) he'd had at sharon's had put him in a social mood - before glancing over to bucky at his side.
there is a pang of worry that shoots through sam's chest, then. because while bucky may not be wearing the harness and jacket from earlier that night, there is a hint of that tension in his jaw. a frown pulling at his lips. when the bartender heads back to grab whatever it was that bucky had just ordered, sam leans in. ]
Hey. [ they're not at sharon's lying low, but they're also not in lowtown. there aren't any images they have to uphold, or roles they have to play. still, sam feels something curling in his gut at the line of bucky's shoulders. he knows he sounds like a broken record at this point, but he can't help it. ] You good?
but they have to. they have to get this done. they can't time or there could be more issues than they already have. if there's a lead, they need to get to it as soon as possible. it's the most efficient way to go about it.
there's this certain line of thinking that comes in far easier than he'd like it to. since the bar, the situation put them all on edge. he finds himself acting automatically. a bit of autopilot. weapons sharon opens to provide put on his person checked and loaded before he considers the amount is somewhat overzealous. or about how he doesn't plan on using them unless absolutely necessary. three knives. one for the boot and-
one knife. put them back.
no, the amount of possible hostiles. four. he's fully aware he's doing it and that isn't helping make him feel better about anything. he knows sam's as uncomfortable as can possibly be right now and making it incredibly clear how hard he disagrees with this plan. and he can feel zemo's eyes on him like he's waiting for the cogs bucky allowed to start turning by agreeing to any of this to set something off.
they enter and he just starts moving through a crowd like he's a ghost among them without checking if sam's following. security considered. exits counted. the target-
he needs a fucking drink. he orders something from whatever bottle his eyes first made contact with and leans on the bar, turned so he can still keep an eye on the crowd. his gloved hands flex as he looks back at sam. ] Mm. [ That's a grunt. ] Fine. [ There we go. He downs that drink as soon as it's set next to him. Another is requested. ]
[ maybe that's what sam has been picking up on, as soon as they left sharon's place. more than just the frown and the edge, more than the sharper lines, there is something else somewhere under the surface of bucky's skin. he'd known that all of this winter soldier stuff would be dangerous. it's one thing to ask a soldier to slip into an old uniform, another to basically retraumatize them. sam doesn't know the intricacies of what happened to bucky barnes in the hydra program, but he got enough first hand experience with what it did to know it wasn't good. asking him to pretend? to just turn that on and off, after all they went through to try and get him free of it?
the anxiety in sam's gut isn't just for the bounty. and it isn't just for the serum. but just as it usually is, when it comes to this sort of work, it's one thing on a list of problems they have to be aware of. one thing they have to keep in mind, while going about their business. he knows bucky has been trying, and he also knows - maybe better than bucky even realizes - how slow going that trying really is. still, sam worries. checks in. wonders if this is all worth it, really, or if they could have found a better way.
the drinks arrive, and bucky downs his in one go. sam's brow lifts - one part impressed and one part curious - as he orders another, before turning around himself and motioning to the bartender adding a second of whatever it is bucky's drinking to his next pour. ]
Uh-huh. [ it's an answer, but not a truthful one. but sam doesn't push, instead giving the bartender a nod - because yes, this is going on bucky's tab, thank you - and turning back to face the dancefloor again. finding zemo amongst the crowd, casually, before taking a sip. it's not great, but sam's had worse. ]
You mean besides the bounty and finding out Sharon's been a freaking stolen art dealer for the last few months? [ sam makes a noise, something like a snort and a huff, and shakes his head. ] I don't know, man. Something about this feels off. And I don't just mean Zemo's dancing.
[ it was a lot easier to fight after finally getting some peace of mind when it was weird faceless drooling aliens with literally everyone. steve was there. even, like, a raccoon was there. fighting karli and the flag smashers so far? fine. well, not fine in the slightest but fine in the sense that fighting against them wasn't going to undo every ounce of progress. or any progress, he'd like to think. this, however, created a dissonance with his thinking. just enough to bother him and make every muscle in his body tense up. it was like a reflex and brushing that all off is proving to be significantly difficult when they're still in danger and he has to be ready to defend them. he isn't going to let it happen but a full slip back in, it's at least a bit reassuring there's someone in their trio here that knows all the controls. that's such a fucked up line of thinking.
sam's presence is more reassuring. as out of character as it was at the time, the hand on his arm was an anchor keeping a man's trachea from being crushed before zemo got the act back on track.
he doesn't buy the "fine" and he's a little thankful to know he doesn't but isn't going to pry. he eyes him with a minor annoyance at the addition to his order. sam he does not have money for a tab, thanks. who the hell is paying for this? hopefully no one.
he follows sam's line of sight to zemo. he grabs the second glass. he decides if they get handed a bill, the drinks on that rich bastard. ]
She needed a hobby, I suppose. [ a little half smirk. then someone gets to the bar behind him and there's the slightest nudge. his grip on his glass tightens. he could turn and smash it against his face. the right piece of glass to temple could-
he downs it faster than someone should with this stuff and puts the glass down. probably suspicious to down another. he should nurse any others. ] It does. But the lead was solid.
[ something being easier didn't mean much in their line of work. because somehow, for sam, you had easy and then you had whatever the fuck his life had turned into after letting steve and Natasha hide out in his home. you had your orders and your direction, as a soldier, and then you had whatever the avengers had pulled. in some ways, it was a lot easier to follow steve - he had direction, he had purpose, he had a moral code and an understanding of what was right and everything else was just how to get to that point. now?
now, sam is having trouble grappling with the fact that what karli is fighting for isn't too far off from what he thinks is right. isn't so different from what he's been frustrated with, sitting at home, unable to help his family business. unable to get a freaking loan. but what sam does know is that if there's a super soldier serum and if it's on the black market, that is not something that he can just let sit. overall purpose be damned, that serum would only cause problems if left unsupervised, and at least he and bucky (and even zemo) could all agree with that.
sam continues to nurse his drink, looking out among the dancefloor. picking up the same things that bucky had already clocked - the exists, the groups along the corners, if any bouncers that he could see from here were carrying. he felt a bit naked without any real weapons, but they'd managed to survive lowtown once already tonight, and at least he's now not in heels. ]
Yeah, some kinda hobby. [ he glances over to bucky purely for the sake of the conversation, but it's just in time to see the other person step in behind him. the nudge, and then that tension shooting through him like the cock of a gun. sam gestures off a bit to an empty table - a suggestion that they move before that gun fires - and steps closer to bucky to guide him away. away from the person who'd touched him, and hopefully away to a quieter space. as they walk, sam's voice is low, his eyes still scanning the room. ]
Was it, though? [ a beat, and he huffs out a breath of air. ] Sharon has contacts, yes, I'm not questioning that. I just feel like the timing is too easy. We could be walking into a trap. [ a beat, and then- ] Another one.
[ the serum is the reason he's involved. he forced his way into sam's mission to try and talk sense into him and it turned into this. it could've been any mission sam was on and he would've went along with it to yell at him. then left because he honestly wouldn't give enough of a shit about karli if she hadn't personally kicked him through a car windshield because she took something that shouldn't exist. they're all in agreement there.
he was so far removed from the world and it's only just really sinking in. he should've stayed removed, perhaps. he considers the make and model of the guns under the bar counter from their warped reflection on the glass shelves behind it. sam should've took one of the guns at sharon's. ]
A lucrative one. [ she's doing very well and he never knew her enough to think too much on it. the nudge cut off any further discussion on it in the conversation too, as his nerves are on fire holding himself still. sam's table idea is probably for the best, even if it may not be the most advantageous location in the room. he keeps in step with sam over to it, inhaling and exhaling through his nose. he locks on zemo in the crowd, making sure he still has complete line-of-sight on him. that it's mutual. ]
As solid as we were going to get. [ he states matter-of-factly. he's not disagreeing. ] Trap or not, we'd still be closer than before. The person she described would come collect a bounty in-person, if they're not here for their usual. [ so maybe we're bait and maybe we're not. problem? concerns? ]
[ that's really a question for if the world would have let him remain removed. sam already was inching his way into that space - sending texts he didn't ever, really, think would be responded to. reminding himself he needed to check in, that he should have been doing more - for bucky, for steve's sake. but with his own life and his own problems and his own family, struggling to make ends meet, what he should have done and what he ended up doing were two different things.
and sam should have taken one of sharon's guns. or one of his own. he should have brought something. but for now he's on guard, tense and unsure, and the longer they stay in madripoor the more he's not quite convinced what they're looking will be here. but the fear of inaction worries him more. curls inside his gut like a bad drink. or maybe it's just the snake testicles. he may never know. ]
Well- yeah. Doesn't matter what she ended up doing, she'd find a way to succeed at it. [ and then he moves them both off to the side, away from the bar and that slowly building violence that he can see under bucky's skin. not yet sam almost wants to say. hold it together. he doesn't need to tell bucky what to do, and doesn't want to sound like he is, but there's the remainder of that concern. checking in. he doesn't believe bucky's fine but also hasn't since they reconnected. ]
Yeah- but are we sure the bounty they're collecting isn't our own heads? [ sam frowns, turning to scan the opposite side of the bar from where bucky looks out to. he considers how quickly and how easily they fall into these roles. having each other's back. watching out for the opposite sides. they're a good team, and work well together, whether or not either of them are willing to admit it. ]
And any attention we bring is only going to make it worse. You think we can actually make it out of this without causing another scene?
[ he could mull all day over what they should have done for steve's sake and sam's. those texts that he left on 'read' indicating he at least looked but never responded. maybe if he did, john walker wouldn't be walking around with something that wasn't his because it would've been talked out at length. what was so right about it? he's right, he doesn't understand. but alas, it wasn't talked about because they're both stubborn as shit, trying to conquer issues that are far bigger than themselves, and aren't friends. they should have been friends to help with the other two.
at least sam isn't wearing heels anymore. bucky thinks sam didn't bring anything because he, far too optimistically, thinks not everything has to end in a violent fight like the skeptic beside him. the longer they stay here with the loud music drumming inside his head like gunfire the more convinced there's going to be blood getting cleaned off metal knuckles. ]
Resourceful. Why wasn't she on the Avengers? You couldn't have traded her in for the arrow guy? [ sorry, clint. outside of airports and big group fights against a galactic genocidal murderer, he wasn't in the clique at all. kinda busy. so really what the hell was a guy with a whole family doing there anyway? his poor wife.
he knows what sam's doing. he can read the signals. nothing said, which is more reassuring in a way. but sam probably couldn't stop it if he wanted to should something set off like a grenade. sam would dive on it like steve would anyway - which is concerning. it wouldn't happen, he has the control here, he keeps telling himself like a mantra. but if he didn't, nobody knows how to disable the gun but the guy doing an odd dance under the lights and the months of getting over each and every trigger might have had a horrible side-effect of disabling the ones that make him stop. ]
Nope. Not sure at all. [ 'aren't you feeling better about this?' playing into the tone of the words. utterly sarcastic in the lightness of them. he's considering lighting rig on the ceiling and how cutting that one chain on the west corner of it could make the entire display crush everyone below it. if he gets it to curve he can hit the water feature.
he rolls a shoulder lightly and taps gloved fingers slowly on the table they've relocated to. turns his head to place more attention on sam. they're on the same page, more or less. they got better at this very quickly, like they had always been in sync but just got a bit rusty. ]
He's not going to want a scene either. If we're lucky, we can cut the guy off and take it outside before anyone catches on too hard.
[ their entire lives would be a mess of "what if"s and "should have"s if they allowed themselves to fall down those wells. hell, there should have been something that sam could have done to save riley, if he wanted to get all the way back into that. but it wouldn't do them any good, now, and it definitely doesn't solve their john walker problem, of the bounty on their heads, or a captain america sized hole between them. but if whatever sense of loyalty they have left coupled with their own hard heads leads them to a place where they can fix this, sam will grind his teeth and bare with it. because at least he can agree with bucky about that - they're not friend.
( would he take a bullet for him? yes. and right now he feels like he might have to. but that's besides the point. )
if anything, red wing is never too far. and he knew they would be searched, knew that if he was found with a gun it'd be worse all around. except that longer they're here, the more he sees the tension grow in bucky, and sam thinks that maybe he should have been armed a little more. just a little. just something to even the playing field when bucky, eventually, decides no one else is moving fast enough. ]
Not officially. She worked for the CIA, I think, and was tasked to follow Steve, back before- you know. [ everything. everything that brought bucky, here, and zemo, across the room. sam's eyes drift over to where he's still in the middle of the dance floor, though sam suddenly isn't quite sure he's just dancing. he definiteively decides he doesn't want to know.
he turns back to bucky, shrugging at the mention of clint. sam liked him well enough, sure, but clint barton had a whole roster of things going on that sam didn't care to get into. even if they did, generally, involve natasha. ] And Barton was around long before you and me, so I don't think we would have had vote in the matter. I don't even know for sure if she wasn't officially recruited. Fury was a hard nut to crack.
[ sam takes a drink from the glass, making a face at the taste again. man, this really wasn't good, was it? he shakes his head a bit at the drink, then sets it down on a close table. if bucky wants another drink, he's welcome to that one. sam's decided he's done. and at bucky's easy nope. not sure at all sam snorts, once, shaking his head and tugging at the lapels of his jacket. it's more of a fidget motion, tugging at the jacket, then his sleeves. there's no real reason for it other than sam still doesn't feel good about this. still thinks something is going to go wrong.
bucky's being sarcastic, and sam gives him a look - quick and unimpressed - before he shakes his head. that is when bucky rolls his shoulders, and sam is suddenly a bit more aware. bucky is on edge, but more than that. it feels just like it had in that bar earlier that night. when they hadn't been themselves, when it had ben less bucky and more winter soldier. sam feels himself frown, a bit, but plays it cool. they're just two people at this bar, after all. no matter what it is they're discussing. ]
You think he's going to let us take it outside? This was his location. He feels safe here. He's not going to be easy move. [ sam's eyes scan the room again, before he's back to bucky. there's a bit of tension, there, not for bucky so much as how the room is beginning to feel. how uneasy this whole place has made him feel. ] And you're not gonna go full Winter Soldier on me, are you? 'cause we're not playing any of Zemo's 'roles' right now, and I want to make sure you're fully in there.
[ one of bucky’s problems is that he has been taking a dive down the wells and the amount of should haves pile up in his head amassing guilt to compliment the long list of missionsbodies names he filled steve’s book with. sam’s a walking guilt trip with a dazzling smile. avoiding him makes the well deeper but being in the same room with him has him drowning in it. he wants to crawl his way out and there should’ve been an exit but he can’t even see above murky depths. no hand to help pull him out because he doesn’t have any friends and that’s his fault because he doesn’t know what he’s doing.
he’s following sam and has his back completely and he’s willing to go too far for him. but they’re not friends. not anything. it’s a problem he’s not willing to openly acknowledge right now but they both know it and sam keeps ignoring it to check in anyway.
he hopes this moron doesn’t think to take a bullet for him. he can heal from it a lot faster than sam could. he thinks of protective maneuvers instead of death traps. part of the programming was playing guard dog and shield. a good sniping position for anyone in this room would be up there, a window to a room above the dance floor. he stares at it and only looks away when it’s deemed uncompromised. he finds zemo in the crowd again automatically. waiting for the dancing to pause for an order.
he takes a breath, uneven. insides screaming at such a fleeting thought. bucky looks back at sam. ]
I made a huge mess. [ all that was his doing. or at least he was a good catalyst to it. can he take credit for hydra’s exposure and downfall on a technical level? he’d gladly take that one. also of course they had someone follow steve, the bastards. at least it was someone nice (or she was nice before anyway. kind of mean now.) ] Didn’t know Fury. [ he just flipped his car and shot him. that’s not getting to know someone at all. ] I hope he asked and she turned him down.
[ he does want another drink. he wants exactly five more of those terrible things because that should be enough to give him a buzz for about two minutes. but he doesn’t touch it or seek out another one because as much as he’d like to lose himself in a more pleasant way than what everyone thinks he’s on the edge of doing, they need to stay on high alert. they’re done.
he thinks he might’ve lost a few minutes at sharon’s. he barely remembers changing. barely remembers the part of the ride here if he thinks on it.
his eyes follow sam’s fingers as they fidget over the fine fabric of the jacket. who picked out his outfit? was it Sharon or Sam? it’s nice.
his head tilts his head, a slow cant with his brows furrowing his gaze cool at the frown. the tension in the room is rising exponentially. sam’s very uncomfortable. and a contributing factor is he’s making sam uncomfortable. he scans the crowd again, briefer. ]
He shouldn’t be expecting us right away. We get him on the way in. Nobody said it was going to be easy. [ he turns his head sharply to him, glaring at the question with a sharp defensiveness in his tone. hands ball into fists. ]
[ but that's the whole problem, isn't it? sam doesn't see himself as anything or anyone that bucky needs to make amends with. did they start off on a rocky foot? yes. is thre a complicated sort of alliance that binds them together? definitely. would sam pick bucky as a bud to go out for drinks on a saturday night with? no. (which he will find ironic, down the road. but that sam and this sam are in different places.) but sam also knows himself to know that if he did have the chance to, if bucky would let him, his hand would be there in a heartbeat. reaching out to pull bucky above water. and friends is a complicated moniker, when you're talking about the avengers. sam called steve a friend, yes. and maybe even natasha, whether or not she would do the same. the rest of the group? the people he spent so many years of his life with? he's not so sure.
so maybe he's more willing to sit in the grey, with bucky. maybe whatever this weird thing is that is only now starting to solidify is something that sam can be comfortable with. he doesn't know where it will go, because he doesn't know where bucky will go, who either of them might be by the end of this mission. after all, he'd been the one to suggest long, separation vacations. he'd been the one, upset and frustrated and hurt, by the blame that bucky looked at him with every time they mentioned the shield. but where did that leave them, now? where did that put him, knowing that with each second they're in the city, bucky gets more and more tense? that for every second they're here, sam is seeing more of the man who ripped the steering wheel out of his hands than the one he fought alongside. fights alongside.
sam catches bucky's uneven breath, but again, does say a word. just watches him with a look that says it all - that he's worried. that he's checking in. but that he's not going to ask again, so soon after. but bucky keeps talking so sam just nods, snorting once at the mess comment. ] Yeah, you sure did. [ but it's said with some levity, a kind of admission that whatever mess that brought them all together, isn't really that important anymore. not in the sense of bucky's guilt, not in the sense that sam really, truthfully, cares all that much. it all happened, and it was messy, but by the end they all had a part to play. ] I think she was a member of SHIELD before that all fell apart too. But she might have. Wouldn't put it past her.
[ sam had liked sharon - not just because steve had. she was smart, she had guts, and she turned up when she needed to. there weren't many people like that, especially not where government jobs were concerned, and the fact she'd been out here on her own since all of that sits heavily in his chest. he knows there's not a lot more he could have done, knows there isn't much to do about it now, other than that pardon. he eyes the glass, thinking that maybe he does want that drink after all. if only becuase bucky hasn't taken it yet.
but he doesn't, and instead goes to fidget with his suit, the fabric smooth and expensive under his fingertips. part of him wants to wonder why sharon had so much mens clothing just, lying around, but he puses the thought away before a rabbit hole could even be formed. ] As long as we don't make a scene. This is one of Sharon's contacts. We can't screw this up.
[ not that they will. that's not what sam is worried about. for a moment he tries to look at the room differently - the people he needs to look out for. the possible cross-fire that could happen. there's a thought that floats in suddenly, a what would steve do if he were here, but as quickly as it appears, it is gone.
bucky turns, sharply, to sam then and brings his attention back - a dark look, an edge of defensiveness. bucky's hands ball into fists and sam's eyes glance towards them, then back to bucky's eyes, holding them without much hesitation. for a moment, sam simply holds the look - not backing down. he feels an urge to buck back up against the glare, to tense his jaw and hold steady, but in the next exhale he lets that go. ] Okay. [ he says. simply. what goes unsaid is the i believe you. what goes unsaid is the i trust you. because, really, that is all he needed to hear. after another moment, sam just nods, once, ending the discussion.
and it happens to be that same moment that a few men walk in through the front door. the movement catches sam's eyes, and when he looks over to check, his body goes tense. ] They're here.
[ He failed Sam (how? not being around? Not answering a text? Not giving enough support?). Failing Sam has become intricately and very dangerously intertwined with the the shield and Steve in his head. Now failing Sam means failing Steve. Sam is who he left the world with and he was going to support it even if the fact that he thought to leave the world at all feels like there’s a knife in his heart that’s been forcing blood to pool in his chest cavity for months. He doesn’t carry resentment at Sam for it. Or hadn’t until John Walker started strutting around like the world was left to him instead and every doubt had bubbled over.
Failing Steve means he’s is not James Buchanan Barnes because that is not something he’d willingly do. That would be someone else and he’d rather die than be someone else again. Steve insisted Bucky was worth existing, which he had not believed at first and believes less every second he exists without him. And that’s the only the reason he’s still here. He has to fix this or he’s not Bucky.
Bucky’s eyes shut, listening to the music and the room and the footsteps. He zeroes in on Sam's breathing and just copies it to even out. ] Yeah. [ He won't apologize for the results. Just pieces of how they got there. He feels bad about most of it. Hurting any of them (maybe not whoever it was he threw in front of a truck. fuck that guy.) ] Sorry I ripped your wing off and then kicked you off a ledge twenty-five thousand feet in the air, by the way. [ The tone is flat in response to the levity Sam has - dry delivery. He it's said with a tone knowing that's water under the bridge, as so few things are. ] That makes sense. She's legacy. Peggy Carter's... [ Drawing a blank. ] -Daughter? No, that wasn't it. [ He stares at a spot on the floor, searching for the answer. Sam and Steve told him this in the car.
He can't remember. ] Shit. [ Another breath. A hint of panic. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Move on. It's a little detail. He remembers everything else. Right? No. Sharon would be so judgmental right now. 'Pet Psychopath'. He never thanked her for helping them at all. Steve should've thanked her with his mouth more. Actually it's pretty fucked to go kissing Sharon when he was in love with her aunt. Oh wait. ] Aunt. [ He shakes his head, shifting his shoulders again. Leaning on the table. Locating Zemo again- Putting focus intentionally back on Sam. Sam who checks in. Sam who he can't fail right now. ]
I know. [ They're not going to screw it up. Not intentionally, anyway. And not from a lack of cooperation. They're all working rather well - too well - which means, in theory, this is going to be a successful mission.
The edge is palpable. He holds the gaze Sam gives him, looking at him with defensiveness, a little resentment. If he fails Sam, he fails Steve and if Sam doesn't believe him then no one does. His shoulders drop and the hard dark look softens, a wire being gently unrolled instead of snapping under the pressure. Okay and a nod. And there's ... a wave a calm.
He turns his head with Sam's eyes and the tension seeps back in but it's manageable. He nods at him. He won't fail. ]
And they don't know we're here yet. [ They're closer to the exit he wants them to move towards. The man is positioned perfectly for cutting his route off. He locates Zemo again, out of necessity. He goes to give him a signal but stops, head turning to another people move in the entranceway he wanted to move the men out of. Incredibly well-dressed, armed, and pissed. Smiling Tiger's men out to get whoever was impersonating him and getting a bounty on their boss' head. Bucky takes two steps over, positioning himself to block their sight of Sam. ]
[ walker brought in an entirely different layer of complications that sam had hoped they wouldn't have to face. being disappointed by the government is something sam always manages to forget is normal. this feeling of his country, letting him down. that's so normal that he almost forgets there could be a different option. except that steve showed him there could be another option, and now sam feels like his every day is an exercise in reminding himself that he can't trust america. couldn't before, and still can't. not when - when given the chance - they create and assign men like john walker. kids, like john walker. and sam couldn't possibly let himself feel guilty for that, but that doesn't make it any easier to swallow, either.
but he can deal with this, first. he can meet sharon's contacts and they can figure out where to get the serum and he can stop this first. then he can worry about the implications of john walker, captain america. god, even his name sounds similar enough to fit the role.
bucky closes his eyes. has that kind of tension in him that comes around when he talks about his time as the winter soldier. sam almost feels bad about it, but the part of him that knows what it is to talk about trauma, who has done this dance before with different soldiers, different wars, knows it would be worse to shy away from it. so sam just stays casual. doesn't let the memory of what happened, or the stress of the situation at hand, change anything about his tone or breathing. bucky apologizes, and the tone is flat, so sam snorts back in response. shakes his head. they both know they're beyond that. hell - sam ended up on the raft just to help bucky. but a part of him is...what? touched? a part of him clocks the apology. is appreciative of it. even if it doesn't matter anymore. ]
Yeah, well. Apparently you made a good enough impression.{ another joke, another comment made with levity. it's what is easiest between them, really - bucky's flat tone. sam's insistence on smiling in response. when bucky starts trying to place sharon, sam simply waits. lets him work through it until he gets to the right answer. his brows are up, waiting for him to get there, and when he does sam huffs out a kind of laugh, nodding. ] Can't imagine anyone with Peggy Carter as an aunt wouldn't end up in some kind of government job with a gun.
[ and then, for a few moments, everything is okay. sam makes eye contact with bucky, reaffirms for him that yes, he trusts him, and that tension leaves bucky in a single exhale. sam finds himself smiling a little at the moment, confidence seeping back into him like warm breeze.
and then the moment is gone. tension is back. they've entered the bar, and there are others - people not with them, that sam catches. bucky must also, because he steps between sam and the door. he frowns, confused for a moment, looking to the back of bucky's head before he can try and adjust. be cool, trust him, it's fine. even if he can't really see who they are, he trusts bucky. even if the two steps bring a questioning look up to him.
still, sam plays the part. looks like he and bucky are just members at the bar. two people, who happen to be here together. ] What's happening, Buck? [ low, just under his breath. sam decides to go for the glass, now, looking casual, taking another sip. ] Did he bring backup?
[ walker is an unsurprising product of something that’s failed them both. (the government recruited armin fucking zola, a man who gleefully tortured him, to do science for them and nobody saw that hydra thing coming?) and the thought that sam wilson, who should have known better than bucky even - a different perspective that he’s not blind to even if bucky is not connecting every dot, thought for a second to put faith in it and trust that a man like john walker wouldn’t get created seemed like a personal insult. it’s not sam’s fault. but he should have known. steve and sam both - stupid fucking idiots putting faith in things they shouldn’t. he’s so tired. but he won’t rest. not until it’s right.
he’s listening, carefully. composing himself in the best way he can. sam’s breathing stayed even - did he notice? sam snorts in response to the half-assed apology and he wonders if it meant anything to him. probably not. never will. all in the past and it’s too little, too late. sam probably thinks he doesn’t need to apologize for anything anyway because sam’s an idiot. ]
The bar was really low, huh? [ it’s an easy dynamic they have, have had for years. conversations that consist of witty little remarks with the driest of execution. do they like each other? not really but they certainly share a similar sense of humor. and respect each-other. he appreciates the patience and not having it shoved in his face how hard it was to find a bit of information. he rubs his brow with a thumb then drops it, letting out a huff of a laugh. ] Geez, that’s depressing. I hope one of her relatives turned to art or something.
[ for a moment, everything is fine. then it’s not - but he has something very clear through the danger to anchor on, if just a little. a small fraction of calm. but it matters. things are easier knowing the person next to him doesn’t think he’ll slip up. trust is one of the hardest things in the world to come by. what he once had in abundance - a whole teams worth of comrades, friends was stripped down to one person that believed him and everyone willing to back that person up. then two people. (Three? Did Natasha believe him? He’ll never know...) now, back to one. one that just removed doubt that the number was zero. he has to keep that trust.
he distinctly remembers telling sam he wasn’t allowed to call him “buck” - he couldn’t care less that it was ignored right now. ]
No, that’s not it. We’re going to have to move. [ low, whispered. zemo is still over there. sam isn’t armed. the crew starts fanning out to search. tension is tripled.
the person currently in charge or under the soldier’s protection must be armed at all times. if the handler or person under the soldier’s protection is not armed, a weapon will be provided by the soldier even if the soldier must relinquish a weapon to do so.
bucky twists on the heels of his feet to turn face sam straight on and takes a step forward to put them close together. he leans forward in a motion that can look far too casual, a flirt. a hand running over the front of sam’s very nice jacket. pretending to smooth it out - a knife slipped out of bucky’s left sleeve and passed to sam. his head cocked in a way that still blocks the view but sam can peek and look. a blade tucked in a front pocket in one motion. a discrete slight of hand. he pats the spot after so sam can feel it - know what he did. yup. just two people at the bar together. who happen to be together. in madripoor, anything goes. ]
How close to that guy did Zemo say you looked again?
[ sam had made his decision some time ago, and while each and every moment leading up to that speech at the smithsonian had been a practice in questioning himself, he'd come to the conclusion that it was for the best. symbols were dangerous. symbols were heavy. symbols, if given too much power, could be just as damning as the men they tried to put away. that's what sam had been afraid of, that's what sam had been trying to avoid by putting the shield away. he'd just assumed he'd have a little more time before the us government chose to disappoint him again. and maybe there had been a part of him that thought things would be different. maybe, a desperate, hopefuly part had thought that the blip had changed anything at all.
he should have known better. he does know better. but he's also been a cog in the military complex machine for far too long than to be surprised by his own disappointment. john walker is a mess for another day. one step at a time. ]
You had good references. [ do they like each other? that's really the question, isn't it? because there are a hundred fights sam could be fighting right now. wars upon wars from both ends of his life. but does he like bucky barnes is a question he hasn't even, really, asked himself. the man infuriates him. frustrates him to the point of wanting to toss everything out the side of the plane. but he's thankful he's here all the same. is comfortable in this back and forth, if nothing else.
the ghost of steve still hangs heavy, between them, over them. sam cannot outrun the memory of the advice he'd given steve that day, even if it had come with only partial information. he's the kind you stop. it's an added weight to the stack of things sam goes to sleep guilty about, every night, but what else is new. ] Every family has a black sheep. Plus with the Carter name? I'm sure acting was right up their wheelhouse. [ sam is still laughing a bit to himself at the image - he didn't know sharon, or peggy for that matter, beyond their importance to steve. he'd sat at that funeral for steve, noting the overlapping circles of names. of people, that the carters seemed to touch. maybe he could have paid better attention, but his focus had been pulled, and sam's not sorry for that.
and then there is the shift. sam sees the tension slides out over bucky's shoulders like a new suit, a jacket slipped on over him. he says we're going to have to move in the kind of voice sam recognizes as dangerous. he's on edge too, now, aware of his lack of weapon. aware that zemo is all the way across the room. he opens his mouth to ask what bucky sees, how many are there, what's the plan, but that is when bucky turns.
they're suddenly very, very close. sam is a bit taken off-guard by it, a glass on one hand and now bucky all but along his front. bucky leans forward and sam's heart-rate spikes, distant thoughts of um.....what.....? creeping somewhere through the confusion. but then bucky's hand is on the lapel of his jacket, and some thing is slipped inside. sam is watching bucky with probably more concern than is necessary, until bucky's head cocks to one side and sam gets a glimpse of what bucky is reacting to, and oh. oh. suddenly, sam doesn't mind the proximity nearly as much, and in that moment of understanding comes an easy shift back to...what? flirtation? bucky's hand is still on sam's chest, and distantly he wonders if he can feel how fast his heart is beating. ]
I saw the picture myself - pretty damn close. [ and then sam smiles, something sly and fluid and in character., as his eyes come back to bucky's. there's an echo of steve, somewhere in the back of sam's had. and then she said public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. if they could only see them now. ]
We can't take them without causing a scene. [ his voice is low, but the expression on his face is still a part of the act. his body language leaning towards bucky, rather than away. just as bucky planned, after all. two people at a bar together. who happen to be together. together, in the same way that sam keeps watching bucky's face, there being something inherently coy, no matter his words. no matter how much his heart is beating, not just because of the newly introduced danger. but that's for another time, too. ] Can we get the contact out of here before they notice?
[ ready to follow captain america into the jaws of death? hell no. symbols can overshadow people behind them if left unchecked. zemo is someone who puts words to this thought process. notes there's flaws that get forgotten with symbols. the pedestals they get put on. that's why it's so important the symbol is someone responsible in charge of it. bucky is used to going to sleep and waking up in a different era. the blip was nothing to him. he did that for years and years and years so what's five more? so he cannot possibly understand the level sam is going to unless he lets go of the symbol and looks at the person that's supposed to hold it. right now he's having difficulty seeing past it. ]
Outdated ones. [ sam can be infuriating but that's part of his odd sort of charm. in a masochistic sort of way, he likes being called out on his shit. does he want to slap sam across the face? a little bit. but he's here and he's not having the worst time of his life. entire trauma being brought to the surface and his crumbling unstable mental state aside, he is outside socializing with people. proud of him, therapist? every rule is broken but whatever. what else is new. ] An actor in there wouldn't be surprising. [ there's a visual in his head. something recalled of margaret carter, director of shield, lying through her teeth thanking the men beside her for wonderful contributions. he remembers being angry about how her red lips, viewed from the sights of a rifle, were in a convincing smile. acting like everything's fine, there was no history she despised, and continued shaking hands with the then-aged scientist bucky has the face of branded into his head. acting. one of the men next to them has his head jerk back with a stream of red after she moves out of the way. evidence to frame someone else in place, the soldier then returns to a place under her very feet, filled with far more rage than before and has it stripped from him why.
twelve. seven on the right, five on the left but they're fanned out. too far apart and covering too much ground to just slip past without being noticed. he sees one nod to another. bucky gets even closer than before, feigning a half-smile. a corner of his lip bit to be inviting while his eyes are too alert, too aware of the room. sam doesn't immediately roll with this right away and it's almost funny to see the shock and confusion. charming in it's own way. he hopes nobody saw it. they have an act going and it buys time. he can hear thumping and isn't sure if it's the music, his own ears pounding from getting ready to take action - to hurt someone or if it's sam's heart he's feeling speed up through his hand becoming audible. ]
That's unfortunate. You couldn't have picked a different doppelganger? [ bucky states, left arm moving and being rested on sam's shoulder. two behind. very close. one is looking their way. the other is getting close enough to be within arms reach. a gloved hand is on the back of sam's neck. sam is leaning in. bucky leaning back. ] No. If Zemo gets to him while everyone's distracted, we can still get the intel. [ he noticed zemo started moving the second bucky stepped closer to sam. the dance floor abandoned. he has no idea where he went but it's presumably to reach their contact.
bucky has them chest to chest, a hand on sam's hip. posture for an intimate dance. his eyes flicker to sam's lips then behind him. the closer man, readying his weapon. sam and bucky, looking like a kiss about to happen. wouldn't that be something? to give something that wasn't pain right now? the hand on sam's neck moves up to the back of sam's head, as if to push forward and connect them. instead it's used to deflect a bullet.
all at once that tension building up snaps. the entire club erupts. the hand on his hip moves to the shirt and yanks him behind him before being removed from his person. the glass is taken and smashed into the face of the shooter. their table is grabbed and swung like it's a hammer into the second man, denting on impact. ]
mobile tagging means if you see typos, no you didn't
[ sam doesn't want to be that symbol, and that's the heart of his issue. he knows what it's supposed to stand for, in the modern view of the ideal. steve rogers had been everything america needed in the midst of world war two. had been everything america needed, again, with the attack on new york. steve rogers has been captain america, and now steve rogers was gone. sam was content with his place in things, now that he was back to existing. he was content with his falcon wings and his contacts with rhodey and working with the air force again. but john did not deserve that shield, that both he and bucky would agree on. he just wasn't sure - yet - what to do about it.
bucky grumbles something about outdated references and sam nearly rolls his eyes. because okay, fine, yes. he was actually paying bucky a compliment. could he take the half-assed acceptance that sam didn't, actually, regret having him at his side? that he was actually starting to see the benefit in the two of them working together? because if sam is infuriating, bucky is on an entirely different realm of frustratingly annoying and sam is more than happy to explain why. ]
It got you through the interview, didn't it?
[ sam's carter connection had been sharon, but he can only guess at what bucky had known about peggy. what bucky had thought. he'd been there from the beginning, after all, hadn't he? someone steve would actually talk to? say more than just his captain america comments and a quick glance down to a photo he actually thought no on noticed? sam doesn't blame steve for holding onto an old flame. but there was so much more to the carters than any of them ever could understand, and sam's not sure steve needed to know or see into the levels that family reached.
but he needed to focus. they both needed to focus, but sam is pretty sure bucky is already there - counting bodies, calculating moves. and actually, sam is kind of depending on it, on bucky's tactical awareness of their movements. they're still close enough that each time sam takes a breath, he just about feels bucky's chest pressed against him. he's close enough to catch the smile and sam works to find his footing in all of this, but his eyes are only on bucky, as he's not sure it makes sense for him to scan the room. so he lets trust take over, lets bucky assess. it's still a bit surprising to feel bucky's arm rest on sam's shoulder, to feel the gloved hand on the back of his neck. he feels his cheeks heat up, but he is going to chalk that entirely up to the rising adrenaline of a potential fight. ]
Pretty sure the whole point of dopplegangers is you don't get to pick them. And it worked of us earlier. [ for a short while. but not long, and that's a whole different issue sam is going to have to deal with. for now, it's the contact, it's the unsteady feeling of having to trust zemo to already be moving and have caught onto the plan. sam's mind is starting to speed up, to try and keep up with the quick movements of bucky's eyes. ]
You think he can do it? [ he means zemo, he means the contact, but now bucky is closer still and his eyes are on sam's and okay, alright, the flutter in his chest isn't entirely the fight this time and sam is man enough to admit that. bucky's hand shifts to the back of his head and they're leaning in closer, sam's grin still present and cocky, like someone finally getting the one thing they'd been working towards. in that moment he realizes that yes, actually, he would kiss bucky. could, wouldn't mind. if they kiss. if this is what is about to happen.
that is when it changes - a snap of twine, a switch flicked. he hears the gunshot and feels the pang on the back of his head and then bucky is jerking sam out of the way. he goes with the yank, ducking down behind another table and emerging just as one tries to approach bucky from behind. sam picks up his own bottle, then, crashing it against the back of his head and reaching for the gun, turning back to where the most of the group was still collected.
avoid civilians he can't tell if he yells it at bucky or not, but the thought is there, and sam lets off the rest of the rounds of the gun only towards those he can immediately identify, before ditching the empty weapon and diving behind another table he'd knocked over in the process. ]
We need to leave! [ this one he's sure he yells aloud in bucky's direction, distracted by the gunfire pinging off the table he's hiding behind. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
delacroix, louisiana.
( the thought that ate at him for hours, though, was the simple wish he found himself saying. the secret he whispered up into the slats above his bed.
i wish steve were here.
but even that wasn't a simple want. even that had its own complications. its own weight. so sam let himself want it, let himself miss steve rogers. and then moved on. )
waking up that next day had been clearing. if only because what he'd said to sarah is true - he can save the world, sure, but he has to start here. start with his world. his sister and his nephews, who he'd put in harms way. his family's legacy, which even his superhero status couldn't fix. focusing on the boat, and at least fixing it up enough to sell, was a task that sam could wrap his hands around and work on, even if he didn't - exactly - know what he was doing. the idea had come to him about finally calling in those favors, and the town turned out. it was the first breath of something good he'd had in what felt like some time, but even then it wasn't complete. still felt like there was something he couldn't quite close.
that was when bucky showed up, with his package and his super strength and a kind of quick synchrony that sam - a bit belatedly - realized he did miss. how quickly they were in step. how seamlessly bucky was suddenly, again, right there with him. and how seamlessly, again, it felt for him to stay. now that was something sam would need to dissect at a later time, something he probably thought of one too many times the night before, too. but for now bucky shrugs and sam puts a wrench in his robot hand and they get to work.
and it feels...better isn't the right word, necessarily. easier falls a bit short. it feels more right than it has any right to feel, and as sam directs bucky on where to go and what to focus on, he can't help but watch him nod. watch him go from one task to the next. deal with him being just as infuriating, and just as irreplaceable, as he has been through all of this. as the sun starts to lean more towards setting than rising, and Sarah heads back to the house to start on dinner with the boys, sam finishes up what it was he'd been doing and wanders back to the deck to find the super soldier, leaning against the frame of the boat as he waits for bucky to notice.
( he is absolutely not staring. nope. not at all. ) ]
You know- you're a lot better at this than I thought you'd be. [ his voice sounds a bit thoughtful. wistful, even. because for whatever reason, when he thinks about the winter soldier, or even just the grumpy, staring freak of a cyborg that bucky has turned out to be, seeing him on a boat in the gulf of Mexico with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a red tint to his face didn't quite...fit the image. but at the same time, it did. now. in this moment.
sam's got his arms crossed over his chest, his shoulder pressed up against the frame. when bucky does finally look up to him, sam will lift a brow, then shrug. it will feel casual, and normal, and maybe, just maybe, way too comfortable for either of their comfort levels. but sam will (for bucky's sake, of course) not acknowledge that. ] Either way, Sarah and the boys went home- you want a beer?
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he wishes steve were here.
the decision to try and ...do something for sam by just handing him a case full of the means to take on something sam's not even sure about wasn't one he had to mull over terribly long. bucky's sure about it. steve was. he doesn't have to use it. it should be an option though. he's had the idea in his head longer than the last few days so it comes to no surprise that when he put the favor in, word returned that shuri hilariously already had everything close to done done before the request reached her. typical.
he debated maybe giving sam some space or something but one of the only things that makes him feel like himself is following wherever it is that shield goes. perhaps it's utterly foolish but it's why there's not a large gap of time between when sam last saw him and the delivery. he wasn't called for this group project and he thinks he's definitely intruding on some level but nobody tells him to go so he stays. close to that shield and close to the person it belongs to now, regardless of if he's wanted or not.
it feels right just fixing things. having something to do. someone that doesn't mind him. someone who doesn't think he has an easy kill switch. a whole family that doesn't think twice about his presence there and smiles like it's the easiest thing in the world. big and wide and full of life and light regardless of any burdens. sam smiles wider than sarah and so much here at his home. with the family. it's contagious and loving and not directed at him.
does he know a lot about boats? no. he just knows enough to make some educated guesses. an efficient solider can make his own repairs. he's pretty sure he knows more about pipes than him. and wiring. and knots. he tries not to point it out and just inserts himself in where he can make something easier, probably in a more irritating manner than if he just pointed out an easier way. sam's got the lead and he follows it without question. sam's a natural leader. bucky forces focus on the tasks to not to think about how easily he follows him too hard.
the day's work was closing out with that incoming sunset. he's sort of watching it while sam finished up, sitting close to the edge of the boat while packing the tools up. he likes sunsets. wakanda had the best ones, completely picturesque, but this one has something he can't really place. the water adds something. the smell of it. the very gentle rock the ties on the boat will allow. the creek of the wood beneath sam's feet while he moves over. ]
Should've went into sailing. [ steve would've thrown up too much, he thinks immediately. he shakes it away. elbows rest on his knees as he turns to look up at him, head tilted a little. his eyes sort of narrow out of habit because he doesn't blink as much as he should be when he looks at him. ] Yeah, sure.
[ it would take sam's entire supply and maybe then some to get a buzz going but it's about the social aspect. it's normal. friends have beers and he can't think of the last time anyone offered him one. ]
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and maybe that's why he doesn't turn bucky away the second he sees him there. why he doesn't send that old bag of bones and metal packing, as soon as he delivered the case. he has an idea of what's inside, has a vague understanding of what bucky is trying to say by delivering it, but in knowing what would be waiting for them would mean acknowledging that he's still thinking about it. still reconsidering a decision he had been so sure of, not months before. sam doesn't like going back on anything he's decided. he likes jumping first and figuring it out on the fall. but going back up into the plane? a wholly different story.
sarah and his nephews were a world worth fighting for, just as maybe - just maybe - america could be too. but it did take him coming home. sleeping in that bed. being in that house. and now it's being out on this boat, chipped paint reminding him every day of his parents, of the life and job they built. the work they put in just for this sunset, in this moment, to happen.
everything they did, for sam to be sitting here and watching it, with bucky.
it should feel weird. not that long ago, it would have felt weird. but something about their search for the super soldiers and dealing with the flagsmashers and freaking baron helmut zemo had shifted not only sam's understanding of what weird is supposed to be, but what should be housed under it. what isn't, really, all that weird at all. like how strong bucky really is, when it comes to work and not punching through walls. like how easily he delegates, how quickly bucky picks orders up. part of him wonders if it's just the work of the gulf water and the warm air, or if there's something else to this comfortable sort of air, but bucky says shouldn't went into sailing and sam snorts out a laugh. ]
Let's not get cocky. [ said with a friendly, joking tilt to his voice. a low watch yourself now that curls ever so gently around sam's almost smile. bucky looks up at him, and sam's brows both rise, waiting for an answer, and nodding once when he agrees.
sam turns, then, moving towards the back of the boat where it's wider, where there's more room for them to sit and where the cooler is tied down, and settles into a seat. he doesn't check to see if bucky gets up to follow him, just moved with a kind of expectant ease. (when did that start?) and when bucky walks by, sam will offer him up a green bottle - cheap beer, really, but it's something. it's social. it's the concept of it. and when bucky takes it, sam holds on for just a second longer, just to catch bucky's eyes. ] If you drink all my beer, you're buying the next case- got it? [ said with just seriousness that while it's joking, it's also not. an acknowledgment that maybe he knows bucky doesn't have to drink. maybe he knows it won't actually do anything for him. but he is here, and he didn't say no, so sam will take this as a win.
he pops off the cap before tossing the bottle opener over to the other, leaning back in the seat and taking a long drink. ]
Thanks for helping out today.
[ easy conversation. they can do this as long as bucky doesn't bolt. ]
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he was a little too quick to judge sam. especially with regards to assuming he hadn't thought anything through. the nostalgic ideal of captain america was what was presented to his head before his memories came back fully and he thinks, probably, that left a mark. losing him put a gloss over those memories. and it shouldn't have. he knew him.
and steve never, for a second, had a solid plan. him being the man with a plan was propaganda song lyrics. that guy used to pick fights with people four times his size and didn't think it through at all. he'd go charging into battle after battle, not checking his six because he knew, rightfully, bucky and the rest of them watched it for him. steve was wonderful leader because he knows how to recognize everyone's strengths and delegate everyone a goal. every plan was just goal points. we go in and win is not an actual damn plan and bucky was always left figuring out how to make it happen. do this and he does, having to figure out how along the way. then it was all of shield, sam, natasha, and presumably every other avenger working it out. (no way steve thought of time travel) and the goal gets reached. every time. goal reached so great plan.
sam takes the shield and becomes captain america is not a plan. it's a goal. once again, he's realizing, steve rogers has left it to his team to figure out how to get there. thanks, you jerk.
sam does a lot more thinking than steve ever did. comes up with actual plans, even if he's making them up while in the process of jumping. there is one eventually. it's obvious now when it wasn't so clear before. the orders he gives on the boat come with the plan on exactly to do it. if they didn't know, instructions were pulled out. people were asked for input. he's not assuming everyone else will figure it out because sam hasn't had someone saving his ass all his life. sam is smarter, more aware of everyone to a degree nobody else he's known has been and thinks of the consequences to his actions. he wouldn't be a good captain america, he'd be a better one. bucky owes him an apology. ]
Too late. [ his lips curve into a smile then scrunching his nose up and straightening his back, nodding to himself with his gaze on the water like he's seriously considering a career in fishing. he shakes his head. nah.
he gets up and follows behind, watching sam's back. the fabric on the shirt shifting. he doesn't sit once sam does, deciding to linger for a moment before moving to where he's decided to sit on sam's left.
the beer doesn't come right away and the words give him a brief pause before letting out a very reserved genuine chuckle, his head ducking. ah, so he knows. ] Got it. [ where do you even buy beer around here? that big grocery store on the road? those places are so overwhelming. too many options.
he sits, pulling the cap off the beer effortlessly with his hand before the bottle opener gets tossed over. ah, hell. he just... holds it awkwardly. ]
Anytime.
[ he means that. when did that happen? ]
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now, with bucky here. now, as he's opened up this part of his life and his self and his home, to bucky too. even steve never made it this far into sam's life, never met his sister or his nephews (granted, at the time they were barely even kids). steve never made it this far home, with sam. but seeing bucky among the boats, the nets, the people, the parts - it shouldn't have been this easy and it shouldn't have been this seamless, and yet here they are.
and maybe bucky wasn't too far off, at the beginning of all this. being mad at sam for not sharing plans, commenting about how sam didn't think things through. because while part of that is inherently wrong - sam thinks these things through - it's the other half of it. it's the fact sam was either following orders, or making decisions for himself. it's the sharing of those plans, it's the concept of someone else looking to him to make the decisions, that sam wasn't prepared to do. bucky invited himself on that first mission, and sam didn't know what to do. bucky continued to follow him, the two of them becoming inherently intertwined as they chased down the super soldiers, karli, the flag smashers.
what sam learns, along the way, is that they have to talk. god damn, they have to talk. more than communication with a capital c, but just knowing where they are. how to have each other's back, how to step into fighting together. because, as bucky probably noticed because sam certainly did, they weren't good at that. they did not have a history of being good at it. so they needed to do better. five months of unanswered texts later, now is there chance. and bucky's not going to be the one who does it, isn't going to be the one to talk or speak or reach out, so sam will. he'll fill that space. he'll do that job. except that that job has turned into much more than that. that job has shifted to a place where sam tells bucky to go grab that wrench and to go pick up that crate and turn this and no, he didn't need help with that but sure, fine, use those crazy freaky super strength powers. whatever.
too late. ] Apparently. [ but bucky smiles - even if it's just for a second - so sam grins back. a promise of a full-chest laugh somewhere in the creases. he drinks from his bottle, leans back into the seat, is comfortable - really and truly comfortable. the sun on the horizon is warm on his skin, the boat is drifting comfortably in the waves, and bucky is laughing. or well- close enough to it. bucky chuckles and ducks his head and sam watches him, still grinning a bit himself. watches, as if he turns away from him he'll miss something.
the bottle opener gets tossed and bucky holds it awkwardly and sam, realizing very suddenly that he can pick up on that awkwardness and he gestures over to a box off to bucky's left. a silent you can put it in there. ]
Is there a story there? [ sam asks, one brow up. it's easy, not pressing, more of sam's 'i'm just trying to make conversation' tone than any kind of pressing conversation. he means the boat, means bucky feeling comfortable here, on this boat. sam wonders if there's anything there for them to connect about, or if it's just a comment, a connection. ] Or are you just an overachiever? [ that part is a joke, mostly because sam has also noticed - or thinks he noticed - a kind of lack of weight on bucky's shoulders. a kind of...not sincerity, necessarily, but honesty to the word. sam is curious. sam wants to know more. but also, more than anything, sam wants to know if they've actually come as far as he thinks they have. ]
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how nice it would be to have all of this though. somewhere full of memories, a sense of belonging and community, family. he's jealous of sam.
bucky doesn't want to stop overstaying his welcome today. chilling here with sam until the sun sets seems like an ideal concept. warm and listening to the waves and sam's soothing voice full of harmless jabs at his entire strange being. he's not going to convince sam to keep drinking with him though. that man is far too responsible for that and will likely try working more on the boat at the ass crack of dawn. and he doesn't know how to start talking long enough that time can be lost track of. he's not going to make that move. he will have to get up and catch a flight eventually and then wait for an excuse to follow him again when the flag smashers resurface. if he wants help with something after that, he'll follow too. because something feels right about doing so.
or he just has nothing better to do.
his eyes widen at the gesture in an odd embarrassment. the bottle opener and the bottle in his right hand. he turns to put them both down on the box, then picks the beer back up. oops.
attention back on sam, mimicing his eyebrow raising intentionally then hanging his head a bit and shaking it. ] Not really. Never been on a boat before, actually. [ he pauses, looks sidelong. shoulders lifting with the start of a shrug. ] That's not true. I sank one once with a rocket launcher. [ he drops his shoulders, turning his eyes back on sam expectantly, like he's waiting to get a reaction to a joke. ]
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and bucky does fit into the vision of what this is, and sam can't decide if it's more surprising that a place with so many memories and so much history could easily mold itself to include one more, or if it's more surprising that he's not at all surprised.
dinner will be ready soon. they have some time, about an hour or so before he needs to heads back home. sam is in no rush, though. and as bucky sets the opener down and picks the beer back up, sam can feel the tension in him. can feel the unasked questions. the fact there seems to be something else under the surface that he won't bring himself to ask. sam takes another drink from his bottle, leans back in his seat, and feels the waves slowly lap against the side of the boat they're now on.
at first, he looks surprised. impressed, almost. that is, until bucky shrugs, once. continues. and it's at that second part of his comment that sam laughs, truly and honestly laughs. it starts off as a chuckle, but after a second or two grows to something bigger, and it takes a few tries before he can stop himself enough to take another drink of his beer. ] So you sank the boat while you were on it? Damn. [ he shakes his head, equally entertained by the fact he found that so funny and the fact bucky is cracking jokes at all. ]
And hate to disappoint you, but there are no rocket launchers on this boat. And I refuse to let you sink this one, so you'll have to entertain yourself some other way.
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until very recently, where they both got to see it dripping with blood. what if that makes it all fade away? he needs something else to hold on to. he wants something else to hold on to. this place, the person sitting next to him - clearer than anything. dark brown eyes and blinding smiles that stick in his head while other things rupture. but he won't assume. he can't keep this. it feels like it belongs to someone else.
bucky is overwhelmed, tense, wound up knots more difficult than any in the nets on this boat. there's a lot that should be said. wants to ask. they're horrible at communication and he has absolutely rancid social skills.
but he's trying. and it got a laugh that's contagious and drops some of the tension he's been carrying. ] Mmhm. [ he nods, small laughs escaping past the tip of the bottle he raises up to sip. he never gets the beer in his mouth because he starts laughing about it more, catching him off-guard. tension popped like a balloon. ]
Nobody told me to get off it. [ he points his beer towards him to add an additional fact to it: ] I actually escaped with that dumbass move. They lost me for a whole week and a half.
[ that came out so easily. he seems to realize it and it reels in the laughter. doctor rayner needed months to even get a word out of him and it was never recalling anything. not a peep. he rubs under an eye with a finger, confusion slipping into the smile that's still there, at least. ]
I'll think of something else. How's your car?
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but then again, maybe bucky should be looking for a person, rather than a place, at all.
sam isn't going to force anything on him - bucky has spent too much of is life with his choices made up for him. orders given and little else. and that's not sam's way. that's not his gig. but he can, here, give bucky the space and time and assurance, can't he? he can give him an easy job to accomplish - sand this, twist that, here, bring that to me, hey thanks man - and enough space to pick if he wants to do it at all, and then maybe, also, a chilled beer that won't do anything to him except give him a reason to just stay, for just a few minutes more.
and it's amazing, sam thinks, that when given all those things, bucky can settle in and crack and joke and even laugh, just like that, which in turn makes sam laugh any more. ] Nobody told you to get off it? So what- you just stayed? You shot off a freaking rocket and thought 'oh hey maybe I'll stick around'? [ sam gives up on trying to take his next drink, his head thrown back a bit by the force of his laugh, one hand on his ribs as if in some shallow attempt to hold it back.
they lost me for a whole week and a half bucky says, and sam barely even recognizes the significance of it, his own laugh still lingering in the air, his breaths coming a bit short. he shakes his head, still amused by the picture of it, when bucky continues and sam - almost comically - goes very still and way too serious, frowning as he looks over to him. ]
You see that? Not funny. You're not getting anywhere near my car. Not after last time. [ one beat, and then one more, before sam's face breaks out into another grin, another laugh, because ah. bucky's funny now, is he? he's got jokes. and something about that realization, that feeling of how far they have come, how simply that had slid into conversation, makes sam feel...what? lighter? more comfortable? warm?
a moment passes that doesn't feel weird. doesn't feel heavy. sam's eyes move out to the ocean around them and the slowly setting sun and has to remind himself that this isn't how it's always been. that bucky, being here, is new. but like in direct opposition to that understanding, sam's body feels like it slides into something older. something comfortable. the kind of feeling that makes him think bucky has always been here, in a way. or that maybe he should be. ]
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he has to get out of his hair soon. sam's just too kind to tell him to leave. sam's giving him a beer because that's good southern hospitality, isn't it? sam wants to take a vacation and wouldn't mind if he never saw him again - but once this is over they're on significantly more amicable terms, at least. so that's good.
the beer gets rolled between his hands and he nods, an amused grin on his face and sam's response to it. ] Yup. I just stood there on an exploding sinking boat until I was underwater. [ sam's laughter makes it all seem lighter and almost gets him going again but he's biting his upturned lips instead, preventing it.
he can crack jokes. he doesn't think he's funny half the time -just unintentionally funny. the therapist scolding him for cracking inappropriate, ill-timed, very dark jokes. "it's not funny, james." finding light humor in anything he did while completely brainwashed was apparently a horrible idea to everyone else but sam. sam goes still and serious so he freezes, swallowing nothing in his throat and then staring at him with puzzled gaze. the frown has him sinking in his seat somewhat. he leans forward. sam says his response. the beat feels drawn out and his eyes dart off sam to a few random places on the boat, squinting even further. searching his unclear memories for when the hell he has ever seen sam's car. has he seen sam driving a car at all? steve drove them to the airport and he didn't break that car. zemo didn't crash the car. sam starts laughing and he smiles at it but still looks absolutely puzzled for a beat more.
and then it clicks and he starts laughing harder than he thinks he has in about 100 years. Head leaned back and he has to shift an arm to keep from losing balance and going over the edge of the ship. ] I didn't know that was your car when I took the steering wheel. [ He wheezes the words out.
he savors the moment that passes, the high from a good laugh. the beer has a rather large sip taken out of it just to wet his mouth after that. this, right here. feels like the peace he wants. free. he hasn't felt free, even if he is. he feels a little drunk from it all and he knows he can't be. ]
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sam does find himself thinking about that - about how bucky didn't have to show up here. package delivery aside, he wasn't the type to do anything he didn't want to, or stick around if he didn't want to. more than even that, it was bucky who offerred to help. who was a huge help. and who sam couldn't help but notice, for himself, how good it was to hav him around. he may have a staring problem and may be a 100 yar old cyborg assassin, but. well. he's here. and he's laughing. and sam can't help but stare a little bit, himself, for it.
because that's just it, isn't it? sam doesn't force anything in his life. he jumps out of planes and checks in on his people and he's there, he's always there for anyone who might need it, but he's not the type to take anything for himself. to push people, closer or away. he wonders how much longer he'll get to have this moment before bucky leaves, and wonders directly after that, if there's something else he could do about it. ]
You have got to be kidding me. That's- oh my god, Buck. [ laughter is easy, a bubbly sound that fills him from toes to fingers, and sam just lets it. he's warm, he's light, they got good work done and he feels like he's doing something for someone again. the boat might not be fixed (yet) but it really is all thanks to bucky's help that they moved leaps and bounds forward. he gives bucky a look, a kind of i can't believe you before shaking his head.
he sees the way that bucky tenses when his own face goes serious, the panic and a bit of confusion there. sam would feel bad, if he didn't know what was coming, if he wasn't - in a childish, giddy sort of way - excited to watch it land. it's ridiculous, really, and if sam were anywhere else, with anyon else, he probably wouldn't be acting this way. but this is them, this is what sam has found when he falls in step with bucky.
that is when bucky barnes starts laughing, really and truly laughing, and sam's grin simply grows at the sight of it. the laughter looks good on bucky, sam realizes, and he can't bring his eyes away from watching him. the light way he simply reacts. the kind of - what? levity? - that finally seems to force its way through him. sam's brow arches up as bucky nearly falls off over the edge of the boat, and then sam is laughing again, himself.
the feeling is mutual - the peace, the drunken warmth of it. they're only a beer in, so sam knows he's not drunk either, but the feeling is a good one. sam's eyes haven't really left bucky at that point, either, catching onto little details he hadn't noticed before. how young he can look, when he relaxes. the way his face breaks a bit when he's laughing. the fact that he does, even now, favor his right hand and not th metal one. he's right handed sam reminds himself, then shakes his head as if to quiet the thought. ]
Doesn't matter. That was the first time I met you, and I am never letting you drive my car. Ever.
[ there is barely any weight at all to sam's words, his smile still hanging onto the corner of his mouth as he takes a drink from his bottle. unsaid in those words are the years (years) they've now spent together, fighting side by side even when bucky was out on the run. even when things still weren't settled. they are nowhere near where they started, and that thought is almost dizzying. ]
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when they found him that first time, sam treated him like a person. not someone to be feared, pitied, etc. just a guy who he won’t move a seat up for and could shit on like anyone else. minor bickering that threw him off so off hard at the time that it ended up pulling him out of the foggy haze to try and bicker back to match the energy. nobody else was treating him like a full person from day one like that. it made him think clearer. things became easier then.
easier now. too easy. there’s no pressure being put upon him except for what he adds himself. sam doesn’t provide constricting lose/lose scenarios that leave him feeling like there’s no choice. he decided to follow him. he decided to come here. that was all him even if he felt like he had to at the time.
he didn’t. but he did. if he looks, sam offers options and guidance he can accept or refuse when he doesn’t know what to do. there’s support. there’s always been support being offered. a hand on his shoulder at a funeral. a text with an open invite to respond, if he so chose to. a beer, if he wants to linger. ]
Seriously. That wasn’t even the first time that happened. [ He grins, wide and toothy at the look Sam gives him. ] I’ve done it with a helicopter too. There was this... [ The beer moves to the left hand. His right used to point, tracing a finger over his forearm. ]
This dent right here at one point where I caught the blades when it ...ya know, I crashed the damn thing.
[ it hurt like hell, he remembers. That’s not exactly as funny of a anecdote but the grin only slightly faulted - sticking the landing into staying on because of Sam’s expression. They’re laughing. They’re laughing and everything’s fine.
He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so at ease. Bucky covers his mouth, trying to stop himself from going further into the laughing fit and out of a slight embarrassment for not knowing he did that at all to Sam’s car until just now. The larger grin on Sam, the biggest he’s ever seen on the guy. There’s light in his eyes.
He gets sent him over and Bucky has to cover his face with his palm, body shaking from something he can’t stop and has to run it’s course. It’s loud and he’s unused to the sound.
He drags the hand down his face once he manages to catch his breath enough, dropping it. ]
Ma always said to make a strong first impression so I’m not apologizing.
[ Making light of that time he tried to kill you all? With anyone else, this wouldn’t happen. Bucky can be solemn, reserved, soft spoken even - but Sam has drawn out his humor. His jabs, volume in his voice. Sam makes him feel the age he looks. Lighter and not weighed down by the past as hard.
He wants to keep feeling that. He wants to keep this going. His beer is emptied (too quick! He internally admonishes himself) and he stares at Sam’s shoes to try and not stare at his face and hide how red his own feels from the giggle fit he practically nosedived into.
Think of an excuse to speak... ]
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and it's funny, looking back and noticing how light it's all become. because that's just it, that's what sam can't quite shake when he looks at bucky. the dark lines that had been under his eyes, the lost expression in his face. the way steve looked at him, broken and torn apart and stitched back together, and said we could do this. and then, because steve had said it, sam could say it too. bucky did not get special treatment from him. and sure, yes, the whole super power freak show was a new thing for sam at the time, but what better way to get involved than to just not care? not bring it up? bucky never scared sam, whether it was because of steve or because of what sam saw in those blue eyes when he finally got close enough to look. and thinking back on it now? seeing bucky barnes who is laughing so hard on his family boat that he may just tip over the edge. bucky barnes, who had looked so unsure when he asked if he could help. bucky barnes, who is here, who is here, and who sam couldn't want anywhere else.
he finishes his bottle, then, though the last bit of it gets caught in his throat as he find himself laughing again, spitting beer onto the floorboards in front of him as he coughs his way through, holding up a it's okay, i've got this hand just in case bucky thought it was anything more serious, and sam shakes his head. ] You... [ he coughs, again, but it's more of a laugh this time than it was before. ] Are a menace to society. Boats and helicopters- what next? Jet planes? You already destroyed my wings before, so we're not counting those. Tanks? [ sam shakes his head because now he's being ridiculous, and moves to toss the bottle into one of the empty boxes. it rattles, a satisfying sound, and for half a moment sam feels like his sixteen again. before he ran off to the air force. just sitting around, shooting the shit, sneaking beer while his parents weren't looking. it's a comforting feeling, but more than that it's a warm one. like bucky has always been right here, right in that seat, right across from him in the lousiana sunshine.
they're not really talking about anything, at this point. casual, easy conversation that sam can keep bouyed for days, if he needed to. but sam finds he doesn't really have to, because as he grabs the next bottle and settles back into his spot, bucky is laughing again. cracking open and pouring out a kind of noise that sam can't help but match. he wants to keep laughing, giggling around like they're kids hiding under the dock, and it takes a few seconds for them both to be able to breathe. bucky drags a hand down his face, says ma always said to make a strong first impression, and sam is suddenly a bit frozen to the spot. there's still a smile on his face, though it's something a bit more thoughtful, a bit warmer, a bit more thoughtful. he's struck by the feeling of it, of the moment that surrounds them both, and while everything in him is screaming don't make this a big deal, he also has to take into account the space. the time. he's invited bucky into his home, introduced him to sarah, the boys. they're sitting around, drinking beer, and laughing, and bucky. well. ]
I think that's the first time you've mentioned your Ma to me before. [ there are no expectations in his words. if anything, they're just a statement of fact. an observation that sam seems...pleased. proud. touched, almost, to be a part of. but that voice echoes again. don't make this a big deal. and so sam takes a breath. settles back against the edge of the boat and watches bucky for a second, just one, before he snorts another laugh. ] Now- I didn't know your Ma, but pretty sure she wasn't talking about literally ripping the steering wheel from someone's hand when she said that.
[ easing any possible silence bucky may fall into. bringing it back to neutral ground. but god, he wants to know. ]
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he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. sam put trust in him and in return has wormed his way into gaining an undying loyalty. it’s not servitude or anything one sided. mutual respect and enjoyment. an actual friend that makes him feel giddy and light like a good night out. sam insisted they needed a long vacation from each other but-
sam laughs hard enough that he spits and bucky sits straighter automatically, empty bottle placed to the side and watching to see if he’s needed before he goes to move in. still smiling but ready to take action had sam started choking or something. because his first instinct is that it would be something serious. the amount of times steve almost killed himself by suffocating... but you can’t coddle, over-worry. wait. there’s a hand up that everything is good from sam and slouches back down, easy smile on his face. laughing too much ] You’ve seen me wreck a jet, haven’t you? Those were jets on that thing, right? [ bucky pauses to consider it, smile shrinking and decides not to focus too hard on how he definitely shot a pilot and hijacked his plane. a few times.
he’s shakes his head, holding his hands up. back to light laughs. ] Yes but- hold on. The tanks I started on during the war. That’s approved of menacing. [ nazi tanks are a-okay. the bottle is grabbed back after there’s a clang from Sam’s landing in the box. bucky flips his in his hand then tosses it in after. it lands next to the other one - silent. show off.
his cheek is resting in his hand now, smiling with amusement. he doesn’t realize how it slipped out. the implications of it. not until sam points it out in a way that doesn’t seem so large. his eyes move off his shoes and back to him. the smile slips off completely into a thoughtful straight expression. he blinks - slow and long and puzzled. he looks back at sam’s shoes. when was the last time he mentioned his mother at all? it’s been a long time. he’s never shared much about his home life with anyone. therapy sessions tried to goad it out and all she got were basic factual answers anyone can find in the museum. ]
Huh. [ sam let’s it hang there with zero expectations. bucky sinks into quiet thoughts. sam moves on after a beat to continue their light-hearted nonsense to break it, he expects. bucky smiles lightly at the words but doesn’t reply for a moment more. there’s that excuse to talk... ]
Probably not what she meant, yeah. [ he nods to himself. quiet for another moment more. and then decides to keep going down that path. sam’s entire family, community- is out on display. heart on his sleeve and bucky’s been holding his own in for what feels like an eternity. he takes a deep breath then starts with words quieter than the ones said through laughter he just had. ]
Tough lady. I mean, had to. There were four of us. Hit me with a spoon a couple of times. Passed when- I think I was ... thirteen or something? [ he cups his hands together, rolling his thumbs around each other. he shrugs. his eyes find their way back to Sam, open. a small smile. go ahead. ask. ]
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the shield is back up at the house, unceremoniously leaned up against the doorframe of the living room, because sam couldn't store it in his room. the shield isn't even his (again). not really. no decisions have been made and no titles have been taken and for all that bucky's wakandan delivery acts as the loudest box in the county, sam hasn't fully accepted what is happening. hasn't really, fully, decided that this is what he wants to do. but maybe steve had the right idea - maybe a captain america does need a bucky barnes. or maybe it's just sam wilson who does.
bucky sits up when sam starts to cough just like he knew he would, and sam waves him off. pulls himself back together and then starts laughing, again, when bucky mentions the jets. ]Okay, fine, over-achiever. Yes- I'm pretty sure you destroyed the entire S.H.I.E.L.D airbase, but we took down the Helicarriers, thank you. [ sam can see bucky trip up, the smile falling and tension filling the space, and sam pauses - just for long enough to see if bucky's going to settle there, or if the lightness of the evening is going to win out. and maybe, just maybe, sam shouldn't feel as proud, or relieved, or whatever it is he feels, seeing bucky shake his head and laugh again. whatever the feeling is, it fills sam's chest with the same sort of warmth left in the air between them.
bucky mentions approved of menacing and sam opens his mouth to argue, or contradict, or say something - but it's that exact moment that bucky flips his bottle and tosses it into the box next to sam's empty bottle, and anything sam wanted to say leaves him in a rush, instead leaving room for - ] Are you kidding me? Show off. [ because they're always on the same page, aren't they? even in this. even now.
and then it is the moment, when sam takes a leap of faith. jumps right on out of the plane and into the open air, waiting for the moment that his wings will catch. that is the feeling sam has watching the smile fade from bucky's face, but rather than seeing something close back up again, get filed back into a room that sam doesn't have access to fully yet, he sees something else. something he thinks is thoughtful, something he thinks is complicated. the silence feels like it stretches out forever, sam's very own heart rate slowing to match the gentle rocking of the waves.
huh.
that is the moment that sam starts to question - if he should fill the space, if he should give bucky a way out. he doesn't want to turn all of this into an interrogation - if bucky doesn't want to say anything more, he doesn't have to. it's why he supplies the follow-up. why, even now, he's prepared to derail the conversation entirely. but before sam could continue, before the words make it out to shift the focus away, bucky speaks. not just speaks, but shares. don't make this a big deal the voice echoes again, but sam is entranced. isn't even sure he breathes.
it's not until bucky finishes, looking back over to sam with a small smile, that sam feels his heart start back up again. feels himself breathe. the weight of the moment is still heavy in the air, but it feels less like a burden and more like a comfort. bucky looks over to him and sam looks back to him, holding the eye contact for another moment or so, seeing the permission there. ]
I'm sorry. [ sam knows what it feels like to lose a mother. while he'd been a little older than thirteen, the loss never really goes away. not when it comes to mothers. to half of the name of the boat under their very feet. bucky has basically told him to go ahead, to ask, and he nearly feels paralyzed by the chance. ]
What was her name?
madripoor baby
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and that is a fact that sam has stated at the very least three, if not four times already, and they've just now arrived at the bar. sharon had mentioned a possible lead. a contact that she had who might have more information on the serum. except the problem arose when sharon, who had clients expecting her to be at this party, wouldn't give her enough time to chase after it. somehow, it was still early enough in the night to warrant a possible meeting, but without sharon able to leave her own party, the lead would grow cold. sam felt gutted, that they could be this close and that the information would just disappear, but with their bounties and half the city looking to claim a quick prize, it wouldn't be feasible.
bucky, apparently, didn't agree. he suggested that he and sam go meet the lead, that there's no way their bounty from lowtown wouldn't hold the same weight up here. sam wasn't so sure, but when sharon agreed that it was their best bet, that without the intel there was no was to track down the serum, there wasn't really any chance to argue. though sam wished he'd fought a little harder about leaving zemo at home.
which means that sam is on high alert as they borrow sharon's car and head to a club right on the border between high and low town. it means he's on even higher alert as they hand off the car to a valet and head inside. sam is pretty sure he can feel an actual target painted somewhere on the back of this nice leather jacket, but he supposes if they move fast enough they can make it inside, find the contact, and get out before news starts to spread. ]
You- don't go far. [ he hisses to zemo as they make it through the doorway, giving him a definitive look. before he can really see how zemo responds, sam is following bucky directly to the bar, eyes scanning the crowd. they've got twenty six more minutes before they're supposed to meet up with their contact, which means blending in, not attracting attention, and biding their time. sam leans back against the bar with a comfortable sort of ease, looking the part of a casual club-goer, as his eyes follow zemo across the dance floor - apparently whatever drink (or whatever else) he'd had at sharon's had put him in a social mood - before glancing over to bucky at his side.
there is a pang of worry that shoots through sam's chest, then. because while bucky may not be wearing the harness and jacket from earlier that night, there is a hint of that tension in his jaw. a frown pulling at his lips. when the bartender heads back to grab whatever it was that bucky had just ordered, sam leans in. ]
Hey. [ they're not at sharon's lying low, but they're also not in lowtown. there aren't any images they have to uphold, or roles they have to play. still, sam feels something curling in his gut at the line of bucky's shoulders. he knows he sounds like a broken record at this point, but he can't help it. ] You good?
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but they have to. they have to get this done. they can't time or there could be more issues than they already have. if there's a lead, they need to get to it as soon as possible. it's the most efficient way to go about it.
there's this certain line of thinking that comes in far easier than he'd like it to. since the bar, the situation put them all on edge. he finds himself acting automatically. a bit of autopilot. weapons sharon opens to provide put on his person checked and loaded before he considers the amount is somewhat overzealous. or about how he doesn't plan on using them unless absolutely necessary. three knives. one for the boot and-
one knife. put them back.
no, the amount of possible hostiles. four.
he's fully aware he's doing it and that isn't helping make him feel better about anything. he knows sam's as uncomfortable as can possibly be right now and making it incredibly clear how hard he disagrees with this plan. and he can feel zemo's eyes on him like he's waiting for the cogs bucky allowed to start turning by agreeing to any of this to set something off.
they enter and he just starts moving through a crowd like he's a ghost among them without checking if sam's following. security considered. exits counted. the target-
he needs a fucking drink. he orders something from whatever bottle his eyes first made contact with and leans on the bar, turned so he can still keep an eye on the crowd. his gloved hands flex as he looks back at sam. ] Mm. [ That's a grunt. ] Fine. [ There we go. He downs that drink as soon as it's set next to him. Another is requested. ]
You? [ Sam's definitely not. ]
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the anxiety in sam's gut isn't just for the bounty. and it isn't just for the serum. but just as it usually is, when it comes to this sort of work, it's one thing on a list of problems they have to be aware of. one thing they have to keep in mind, while going about their business. he knows bucky has been trying, and he also knows - maybe better than bucky even realizes - how slow going that trying really is. still, sam worries. checks in. wonders if this is all worth it, really, or if they could have found a better way.
the drinks arrive, and bucky downs his in one go. sam's brow lifts - one part impressed and one part curious - as he orders another, before turning around himself and motioning to the bartender adding a second of whatever it is bucky's drinking to his next pour. ]
Uh-huh. [ it's an answer, but not a truthful one. but sam doesn't push, instead giving the bartender a nod - because yes, this is going on bucky's tab, thank you - and turning back to face the dancefloor again. finding zemo amongst the crowd, casually, before taking a sip. it's not great, but sam's had worse. ]
You mean besides the bounty and finding out Sharon's been a freaking stolen art dealer for the last few months? [ sam makes a noise, something like a snort and a huff, and shakes his head. ] I don't know, man. Something about this feels off. And I don't just mean Zemo's dancing.
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sam's presence is more reassuring. as out of character as it was at the time, the hand on his arm was an anchor keeping a man's trachea from being crushed before zemo got the act back on track.
he doesn't buy the "fine" and he's a little thankful to know he doesn't but isn't going to pry. he eyes him with a minor annoyance at the addition to his order. sam he does not have money for a tab, thanks. who the hell is paying for this? hopefully no one.
he follows sam's line of sight to zemo. he grabs the second glass. he decides if they get handed a bill, the drinks on that rich bastard. ]
She needed a hobby, I suppose. [ a little half smirk. then someone gets to the bar behind him and there's the slightest nudge. his grip on his glass tightens. he could turn and smash it against his face. the right piece of glass to temple could-
he downs it faster than someone should with this stuff and puts the glass down. probably suspicious to down another. he should nurse any others. ] It does. But the lead was solid.
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now, sam is having trouble grappling with the fact that what karli is fighting for isn't too far off from what he thinks is right. isn't so different from what he's been frustrated with, sitting at home, unable to help his family business. unable to get a freaking loan. but what sam does know is that if there's a super soldier serum and if it's on the black market, that is not something that he can just let sit. overall purpose be damned, that serum would only cause problems if left unsupervised, and at least he and bucky (and even zemo) could all agree with that.
sam continues to nurse his drink, looking out among the dancefloor. picking up the same things that bucky had already clocked - the exists, the groups along the corners, if any bouncers that he could see from here were carrying. he felt a bit naked without any real weapons, but they'd managed to survive lowtown once already tonight, and at least he's now not in heels. ]
Yeah, some kinda hobby. [ he glances over to bucky purely for the sake of the conversation, but it's just in time to see the other person step in behind him. the nudge, and then that tension shooting through him like the cock of a gun. sam gestures off a bit to an empty table - a suggestion that they move before that gun fires - and steps closer to bucky to guide him away. away from the person who'd touched him, and hopefully away to a quieter space. as they walk, sam's voice is low, his eyes still scanning the room. ]
Was it, though? [ a beat, and he huffs out a breath of air. ] Sharon has contacts, yes, I'm not questioning that. I just feel like the timing is too easy. We could be walking into a trap. [ a beat, and then- ] Another one.
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he was so far removed from the world and it's only just really sinking in. he should've stayed removed, perhaps. he considers the make and model of the guns under the bar counter from their warped reflection on the glass shelves behind it. sam should've took one of the guns at sharon's. ]
A lucrative one. [ she's doing very well and he never knew her enough to think too much on it. the nudge cut off any further discussion on it in the conversation too, as his nerves are on fire holding himself still. sam's table idea is probably for the best, even if it may not be the most advantageous location in the room. he keeps in step with sam over to it, inhaling and exhaling through his nose. he locks on zemo in the crowd, making sure he still has complete line-of-sight on him. that it's mutual. ]
As solid as we were going to get. [ he states matter-of-factly. he's not disagreeing. ] Trap or not, we'd still be closer than before. The person she described would come collect a bounty in-person, if they're not here for their usual. [ so maybe we're bait and maybe we're not. problem? concerns? ]
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and sam should have taken one of sharon's guns. or one of his own. he should have brought something. but for now he's on guard, tense and unsure, and the longer they stay in madripoor the more he's not quite convinced what they're looking will be here. but the fear of inaction worries him more. curls inside his gut like a bad drink. or maybe it's just the snake testicles. he may never know. ]
Well- yeah. Doesn't matter what she ended up doing, she'd find a way to succeed at it. [ and then he moves them both off to the side, away from the bar and that slowly building violence that he can see under bucky's skin. not yet sam almost wants to say. hold it together. he doesn't need to tell bucky what to do, and doesn't want to sound like he is, but there's the remainder of that concern. checking in. he doesn't believe bucky's fine but also hasn't since they reconnected. ]
Yeah- but are we sure the bounty they're collecting isn't our own heads? [ sam frowns, turning to scan the opposite side of the bar from where bucky looks out to. he considers how quickly and how easily they fall into these roles. having each other's back. watching out for the opposite sides. they're a good team, and work well together, whether or not either of them are willing to admit it. ]
And any attention we bring is only going to make it worse. You think we can actually make it out of this without causing another scene?
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at least sam isn't wearing heels anymore. bucky thinks sam didn't bring anything because he, far too optimistically, thinks not everything has to end in a violent fight like the skeptic beside him. the longer they stay here with the loud music drumming inside his head like gunfire the more convinced there's going to be blood getting cleaned off metal knuckles. ]
Resourceful. Why wasn't she on the Avengers? You couldn't have traded her in for the arrow guy? [ sorry, clint. outside of airports and big group fights against a galactic genocidal murderer, he wasn't in the clique at all. kinda busy. so really what the hell was a guy with a whole family doing there anyway? his poor wife.
he knows what sam's doing. he can read the signals. nothing said, which is more reassuring in a way. but sam probably couldn't stop it if he wanted to should something set off like a grenade. sam would dive on it like steve would anyway - which is concerning. it wouldn't happen, he has the control here, he keeps telling himself like a mantra. but if he didn't, nobody knows how to disable the gun but the guy doing an odd dance under the lights and the months of getting over each and every trigger might have had a horrible side-effect of disabling the ones that make him stop. ]
Nope. Not sure at all. [ 'aren't you feeling better about this?' playing into the tone of the words. utterly sarcastic in the lightness of them. he's considering lighting rig on the ceiling and how cutting that one chain on the west corner of it could make the entire display crush everyone below it. if he gets it to curve he can hit the water feature.
he rolls a shoulder lightly and taps gloved fingers slowly on the table they've relocated to. turns his head to place more attention on sam. they're on the same page, more or less. they got better at this very quickly, like they had always been in sync but just got a bit rusty. ]
He's not going to want a scene either. If we're lucky, we can cut the guy off and take it outside before anyone catches on too hard.
[ they haven't been very lucky though. ]
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( would he take a bullet for him? yes. and right now he feels like he might have to. but that's besides the point. )
if anything, red wing is never too far. and he knew they would be searched, knew that if he was found with a gun it'd be worse all around. except that longer they're here, the more he sees the tension grow in bucky, and sam thinks that maybe he should have been armed a little more. just a little. just something to even the playing field when bucky, eventually, decides no one else is moving fast enough. ]
Not officially. She worked for the CIA, I think, and was tasked to follow Steve, back before- you know. [ everything. everything that brought bucky, here, and zemo, across the room. sam's eyes drift over to where he's still in the middle of the dance floor, though sam suddenly isn't quite sure he's just dancing. he definiteively decides he doesn't want to know.
he turns back to bucky, shrugging at the mention of clint. sam liked him well enough, sure, but clint barton had a whole roster of things going on that sam didn't care to get into. even if they did, generally, involve natasha. ] And Barton was around long before you and me, so I don't think we would have had vote in the matter. I don't even know for sure if she wasn't officially recruited. Fury was a hard nut to crack.
[ sam takes a drink from the glass, making a face at the taste again. man, this really wasn't good, was it? he shakes his head a bit at the drink, then sets it down on a close table. if bucky wants another drink, he's welcome to that one. sam's decided he's done. and at bucky's easy nope. not sure at all sam snorts, once, shaking his head and tugging at the lapels of his jacket. it's more of a fidget motion, tugging at the jacket, then his sleeves. there's no real reason for it other than sam still doesn't feel good about this. still thinks something is going to go wrong.
bucky's being sarcastic, and sam gives him a look - quick and unimpressed - before he shakes his head. that is when bucky rolls his shoulders, and sam is suddenly a bit more aware. bucky is on edge, but more than that. it feels just like it had in that bar earlier that night. when they hadn't been themselves, when it had ben less bucky and more winter soldier. sam feels himself frown, a bit, but plays it cool. they're just two people at this bar, after all. no matter what it is they're discussing. ]
You think he's going to let us take it outside? This was his location. He feels safe here. He's not going to be easy move. [ sam's eyes scan the room again, before he's back to bucky. there's a bit of tension, there, not for bucky so much as how the room is beginning to feel. how uneasy this whole place has made him feel. ] And you're not gonna go full Winter Soldier on me, are you? 'cause we're not playing any of Zemo's 'roles' right now, and I want to make sure you're fully in there.
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missionsbodiesnames he filled steve’s book with. sam’s a walking guilt trip with a dazzling smile. avoiding him makes the well deeper but being in the same room with him has him drowning in it. he wants to crawl his way out and there should’ve been an exit but he can’t even see above murky depths. no hand to help pull him out because he doesn’t have any friends and that’s his fault because he doesn’t know what he’s doing.he’s following sam and has his back completely and he’s willing to go too far for him. but they’re not friends. not anything. it’s a problem he’s not willing to openly acknowledge right now but they both know it and sam keeps ignoring it to check in anyway.
he hopes this moron doesn’t think to take a bullet for him. he can heal from it a lot faster than sam could. he thinks of protective maneuvers instead of death traps. part of the programming was playing guard dog and shield. a good sniping position for anyone in this room would be up there, a window to a room above the dance floor. he stares at it and only looks away when it’s deemed uncompromised. he finds zemo in the crowd again automatically. waiting for the dancing to pause for an order.
he takes a breath, uneven. insides screaming at such a fleeting thought. bucky looks back at sam. ]
I made a huge mess. [ all that was his doing. or at least he was a good catalyst to it. can he take credit for hydra’s exposure and downfall on a technical level? he’d gladly take that one. also of course they had someone follow steve, the bastards. at least it was someone nice (or she was nice before anyway. kind of mean now.) ] Didn’t know Fury. [ he just flipped his car and shot him. that’s not getting to know someone at all. ] I hope he asked and she turned him down.
[ he does want another drink. he wants exactly five more of those terrible things because that should be enough to give him a buzz for about two minutes. but he doesn’t touch it or seek out another one because as much as he’d like to lose himself in a more pleasant way than what everyone thinks he’s on the edge of doing, they need to stay on high alert. they’re done.
he thinks he might’ve lost a few minutes at sharon’s. he barely remembers changing. barely remembers the part of the ride here if he thinks on it.
his eyes follow sam’s fingers as they fidget over the fine fabric of the jacket. who picked out his outfit? was it Sharon or Sam? it’s nice.
his head tilts his head, a slow cant with his brows furrowing his gaze cool at the frown. the tension in the room is rising exponentially. sam’s very uncomfortable. and a contributing factor is he’s making sam uncomfortable. he scans the crowd again, briefer. ]
He shouldn’t be expecting us right away. We get him on the way in. Nobody said it was going to be easy. [ he turns his head sharply to him, glaring at the question with a sharp defensiveness in his tone. hands ball into fists. ]
I’m not. I’m with you.
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so maybe he's more willing to sit in the grey, with bucky. maybe whatever this weird thing is that is only now starting to solidify is something that sam can be comfortable with. he doesn't know where it will go, because he doesn't know where bucky will go, who either of them might be by the end of this mission. after all, he'd been the one to suggest long, separation vacations. he'd been the one, upset and frustrated and hurt, by the blame that bucky looked at him with every time they mentioned the shield. but where did that leave them, now? where did that put him, knowing that with each second they're in the city, bucky gets more and more tense? that for every second they're here, sam is seeing more of the man who ripped the steering wheel out of his hands than the one he fought alongside. fights alongside.
sam catches bucky's uneven breath, but again, does say a word. just watches him with a look that says it all - that he's worried. that he's checking in. but that he's not going to ask again, so soon after. but bucky keeps talking so sam just nods, snorting once at the mess comment. ] Yeah, you sure did. [ but it's said with some levity, a kind of admission that whatever mess that brought them all together, isn't really that important anymore. not in the sense of bucky's guilt, not in the sense that sam really, truthfully, cares all that much. it all happened, and it was messy, but by the end they all had a part to play. ] I think she was a member of SHIELD before that all fell apart too. But she might have. Wouldn't put it past her.
[ sam had liked sharon - not just because steve had. she was smart, she had guts, and she turned up when she needed to. there weren't many people like that, especially not where government jobs were concerned, and the fact she'd been out here on her own since all of that sits heavily in his chest. he knows there's not a lot more he could have done, knows there isn't much to do about it now, other than that pardon. he eyes the glass, thinking that maybe he does want that drink after all. if only becuase bucky hasn't taken it yet.
but he doesn't, and instead goes to fidget with his suit, the fabric smooth and expensive under his fingertips. part of him wants to wonder why sharon had so much mens clothing just, lying around, but he puses the thought away before a rabbit hole could even be formed. ] As long as we don't make a scene. This is one of Sharon's contacts. We can't screw this up.
[ not that they will. that's not what sam is worried about. for a moment he tries to look at the room differently - the people he needs to look out for. the possible cross-fire that could happen. there's a thought that floats in suddenly, a what would steve do if he were here, but as quickly as it appears, it is gone.
bucky turns, sharply, to sam then and brings his attention back - a dark look, an edge of defensiveness. bucky's hands ball into fists and sam's eyes glance towards them, then back to bucky's eyes, holding them without much hesitation. for a moment, sam simply holds the look - not backing down. he feels an urge to buck back up against the glare, to tense his jaw and hold steady, but in the next exhale he lets that go. ] Okay. [ he says. simply. what goes unsaid is the i believe you. what goes unsaid is the i trust you. because, really, that is all he needed to hear. after another moment, sam just nods, once, ending the discussion.
and it happens to be that same moment that a few men walk in through the front door. the movement catches sam's eyes, and when he looks over to check, his body goes tense. ] They're here.
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Failing Steve means he’s is not James Buchanan Barnes because that is not something he’d willingly do. That would be someone else and he’d rather die than be someone else again. Steve insisted Bucky was worth existing, which he had not believed at first and believes less every second he exists without him. And that’s the only the reason he’s still here. He has to fix this or he’s not Bucky.
Bucky’s eyes shut, listening to the music and the room and the footsteps. He zeroes in on Sam's breathing and just copies it to even out. ] Yeah. [ He won't apologize for the results. Just pieces of how they got there. He feels bad about most of it. Hurting any of them (maybe not whoever it was he threw in front of a truck. fuck that guy.) ] Sorry I ripped your wing off and then kicked you off a ledge twenty-five thousand feet in the air, by the way. [ The tone is flat in response to the levity Sam has - dry delivery. He it's said with a tone knowing that's water under the bridge, as so few things are. ] That makes sense. She's legacy. Peggy Carter's... [ Drawing a blank. ] -Daughter? No, that wasn't it. [ He stares at a spot on the floor, searching for the answer. Sam and Steve told him this in the car.
He can't remember. ] Shit. [ Another breath. A hint of panic. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Move on. It's a little detail. He remembers everything else. Right? No. Sharon would be so judgmental right now. 'Pet Psychopath'. He never thanked her for helping them at all. Steve should've thanked her with his mouth more. Actually it's pretty fucked to go kissing Sharon when he was in love with her aunt. Oh wait. ] Aunt. [ He shakes his head, shifting his shoulders again. Leaning on the table. Locating Zemo again- Putting focus intentionally back on Sam. Sam who checks in. Sam who he can't fail right now. ]
I know. [ They're not going to screw it up. Not intentionally, anyway. And not from a lack of cooperation. They're all working rather well - too well - which means, in theory, this is going to be a successful mission.
The edge is palpable. He holds the gaze Sam gives him, looking at him with defensiveness, a little resentment. If he fails Sam, he fails Steve and if Sam doesn't believe him then no one does. His shoulders drop and the hard dark look softens, a wire being gently unrolled instead of snapping under the pressure. Okay and a nod. And there's ... a wave a calm.
He turns his head with Sam's eyes and the tension seeps back in but it's manageable. He nods at him. He won't fail. ]
And they don't know we're here yet. [ They're closer to the exit he wants them to move towards. The man is positioned perfectly for cutting his route off. He locates Zemo again, out of necessity. He goes to give him a signal but stops, head turning to another people move in the entranceway he wanted to move the men out of. Incredibly well-dressed, armed, and pissed. Smiling Tiger's men out to get whoever was impersonating him and getting a bounty on their boss' head. Bucky takes two steps over, positioning himself to block their sight of Sam. ]
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but he can deal with this, first. he can meet sharon's contacts and they can figure out where to get the serum and he can stop this first. then he can worry about the implications of john walker, captain america. god, even his name sounds similar enough to fit the role.
bucky closes his eyes. has that kind of tension in him that comes around when he talks about his time as the winter soldier. sam almost feels bad about it, but the part of him that knows what it is to talk about trauma, who has done this dance before with different soldiers, different wars, knows it would be worse to shy away from it. so sam just stays casual. doesn't let the memory of what happened, or the stress of the situation at hand, change anything about his tone or breathing. bucky apologizes, and the tone is flat, so sam snorts back in response. shakes his head. they both know they're beyond that. hell - sam ended up on the raft just to help bucky. but a part of him is...what? touched? a part of him clocks the apology. is appreciative of it. even if it doesn't matter anymore. ]
Yeah, well. Apparently you made a good enough impression.{ another joke, another comment made with levity. it's what is easiest between them, really - bucky's flat tone. sam's insistence on smiling in response. when bucky starts trying to place sharon, sam simply waits. lets him work through it until he gets to the right answer. his brows are up, waiting for him to get there, and when he does sam huffs out a kind of laugh, nodding. ] Can't imagine anyone with Peggy Carter as an aunt wouldn't end up in some kind of government job with a gun.
[ and then, for a few moments, everything is okay. sam makes eye contact with bucky, reaffirms for him that yes, he trusts him, and that tension leaves bucky in a single exhale. sam finds himself smiling a little at the moment, confidence seeping back into him like warm breeze.
and then the moment is gone. tension is back. they've entered the bar, and there are others - people not with them, that sam catches. bucky must also, because he steps between sam and the door. he frowns, confused for a moment, looking to the back of bucky's head before he can try and adjust. be cool, trust him, it's fine. even if he can't really see who they are, he trusts bucky. even if the two steps bring a questioning look up to him.
still, sam plays the part. looks like he and bucky are just members at the bar. two people, who happen to be here together. ] What's happening, Buck? [ low, just under his breath. sam decides to go for the glass, now, looking casual, taking another sip. ] Did he bring backup?
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he’s listening, carefully. composing himself in the best way he can. sam’s breathing stayed even - did he notice? sam snorts in response to the half-assed apology and he wonders if it meant anything to him. probably not. never will. all in the past and it’s too little, too late. sam probably thinks he doesn’t need to apologize for anything anyway because sam’s an idiot. ]
The bar was really low, huh? [ it’s an easy dynamic they have, have had for years. conversations that consist of witty little remarks with the driest of execution. do they like each other? not really but they certainly share a similar sense of humor. and respect each-other. he appreciates the patience and not having it shoved in his face how hard it was to find a bit of information. he rubs his brow with a thumb then drops it, letting out a huff of a laugh. ] Geez, that’s depressing. I hope one of her relatives turned to art or something.
[ for a moment, everything is fine. then it’s not - but he has something very clear through the danger to anchor on, if just a little. a small fraction of calm. but it matters. things are easier knowing the person next to him doesn’t think he’ll slip up. trust is one of the hardest things in the world to come by. what he once had in abundance - a whole teams worth of comrades, friends was stripped down to one person that believed him and everyone willing to back that person up. then two people. (Three? Did Natasha believe him? He’ll never know...) now, back to one. one that just removed doubt that the number was zero. he has to keep that trust.
he distinctly remembers telling sam he wasn’t allowed to call him “buck” - he couldn’t care less that it was ignored right now. ]
No, that’s not it. We’re going to have to move. [ low, whispered. zemo is still over there. sam isn’t armed. the crew starts fanning out to search. tension is tripled.
the person currently in charge or under the soldier’s protection must be armed at all times. if the handler or person under the soldier’s protection is not armed, a weapon will be provided by the soldier even if the soldier must relinquish a weapon to do so.
bucky twists on the heels of his feet to turn face sam straight on and takes a step forward to put them close together. he leans forward in a motion that can look far too casual, a flirt. a hand running over the front of sam’s very nice jacket. pretending to smooth it out - a knife slipped out of bucky’s left sleeve and passed to sam. his head cocked in a way that still blocks the view but sam can peek and look. a blade tucked in a front pocket in one motion. a discrete slight of hand. he pats the spot after so sam can feel it - know what he did. yup. just two people at the bar together. who happen to be together. in madripoor, anything goes. ]
How close to that guy did Zemo say you looked again?
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he should have known better. he does know better. but he's also been a cog in the military complex machine for far too long than to be surprised by his own disappointment. john walker is a mess for another day. one step at a time. ]
You had good references. [ do they like each other? that's really the question, isn't it? because there are a hundred fights sam could be fighting right now. wars upon wars from both ends of his life. but does he like bucky barnes is a question he hasn't even, really, asked himself. the man infuriates him. frustrates him to the point of wanting to toss everything out the side of the plane. but he's thankful he's here all the same. is comfortable in this back and forth, if nothing else.
the ghost of steve still hangs heavy, between them, over them. sam cannot outrun the memory of the advice he'd given steve that day, even if it had come with only partial information. he's the kind you stop. it's an added weight to the stack of things sam goes to sleep guilty about, every night, but what else is new. ] Every family has a black sheep. Plus with the Carter name? I'm sure acting was right up their wheelhouse. [ sam is still laughing a bit to himself at the image - he didn't know sharon, or peggy for that matter, beyond their importance to steve. he'd sat at that funeral for steve, noting the overlapping circles of names. of people, that the carters seemed to touch. maybe he could have paid better attention, but his focus had been pulled, and sam's not sorry for that.
and then there is the shift. sam sees the tension slides out over bucky's shoulders like a new suit, a jacket slipped on over him. he says we're going to have to move in the kind of voice sam recognizes as dangerous. he's on edge too, now, aware of his lack of weapon. aware that zemo is all the way across the room. he opens his mouth to ask what bucky sees, how many are there, what's the plan, but that is when bucky turns.
they're suddenly very, very close. sam is a bit taken off-guard by it, a glass on one hand and now bucky all but along his front. bucky leans forward and sam's heart-rate spikes, distant thoughts of um.....what.....? creeping somewhere through the confusion. but then bucky's hand is on the lapel of his jacket, and some thing is slipped inside. sam is watching bucky with probably more concern than is necessary, until bucky's head cocks to one side and sam gets a glimpse of what bucky is reacting to, and oh. oh. suddenly, sam doesn't mind the proximity nearly as much, and in that moment of understanding comes an easy shift back to...what? flirtation? bucky's hand is still on sam's chest, and distantly he wonders if he can feel how fast his heart is beating. ]
I saw the picture myself - pretty damn close. [ and then sam smiles, something sly and fluid and in character., as his eyes come back to bucky's. there's an echo of steve, somewhere in the back of sam's had. and then she said public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. if they could only see them now. ]
We can't take them without causing a scene. [ his voice is low, but the expression on his face is still a part of the act. his body language leaning towards bucky, rather than away. just as bucky planned, after all. two people at a bar together. who happen to be together. together, in the same way that sam keeps watching bucky's face, there being something inherently coy, no matter his words. no matter how much his heart is beating, not just because of the newly introduced danger. but that's for another time, too. ] Can we get the contact out of here before they notice?
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Outdated ones. [ sam can be infuriating but that's part of his odd sort of charm. in a masochistic sort of way, he likes being called out on his shit. does he want to slap sam across the face? a little bit. but he's here and he's not having the worst time of his life. entire trauma being brought to the surface and his crumbling unstable mental state aside, he is outside socializing with people. proud of him, therapist? every rule is broken but whatever. what else is new. ] An actor in there wouldn't be surprising. [ there's a visual in his head. something recalled of margaret carter, director of shield, lying through her teeth thanking the men beside her for wonderful contributions. he remembers being angry about how her red lips, viewed from the sights of a rifle, were in a convincing smile. acting like everything's fine, there was no history she despised, and continued shaking hands with the then-aged scientist bucky has the face of branded into his head. acting. one of the men next to them has his head jerk back with a stream of red after she moves out of the way. evidence to frame someone else in place, the soldier then returns to a place under her very feet, filled with far more rage than before and has it stripped from him why.
twelve. seven on the right, five on the left but they're fanned out. too far apart and covering too much ground to just slip past without being noticed. he sees one nod to another. bucky gets even closer than before, feigning a half-smile. a corner of his lip bit to be inviting while his eyes are too alert, too aware of the room. sam doesn't immediately roll with this right away and it's almost funny to see the shock and confusion. charming in it's own way. he hopes nobody saw it. they have an act going and it buys time. he can hear thumping and isn't sure if it's the music, his own ears pounding from getting ready to take action - to hurt someone or if it's sam's heart he's feeling speed up through his hand becoming audible. ]
That's unfortunate. You couldn't have picked a different doppelganger? [ bucky states, left arm moving and being rested on sam's shoulder. two behind. very close. one is looking their way. the other is getting close enough to be within arms reach. a gloved hand is on the back of sam's neck. sam is leaning in. bucky leaning back. ] No. If Zemo gets to him while everyone's distracted, we can still get the intel. [ he noticed zemo started moving the second bucky stepped closer to sam. the dance floor abandoned. he has no idea where he went but it's presumably to reach their contact.
bucky has them chest to chest, a hand on sam's hip. posture for an intimate dance. his eyes flicker to sam's lips then behind him. the closer man, readying his weapon. sam and bucky, looking like a kiss about to happen. wouldn't that be something? to give something that wasn't pain right now? the hand on sam's neck moves up to the back of sam's head, as if to push forward and connect them. instead it's used to deflect a bullet.
all at once that tension building up snaps. the entire club erupts. the hand on his hip moves to the shirt and yanks him behind him before being removed from his person. the glass is taken and smashed into the face of the shooter. their table is grabbed and swung like it's a hammer into the second man, denting on impact. ]
mobile tagging means if you see typos, no you didn't
bucky grumbles something about outdated references and sam nearly rolls his eyes. because okay, fine, yes. he was actually paying bucky a compliment. could he take the half-assed acceptance that sam didn't, actually, regret having him at his side? that he was actually starting to see the benefit in the two of them working together? because if sam is infuriating, bucky is on an entirely different realm of frustratingly annoying and sam is more than happy to explain why. ]
It got you through the interview, didn't it?
[ sam's carter connection had been sharon, but he can only guess at what bucky had known about peggy. what bucky had thought. he'd been there from the beginning, after all, hadn't he? someone steve would actually talk to? say more than just his captain america comments and a quick glance down to a photo he actually thought no on noticed? sam doesn't blame steve for holding onto an old flame. but there was so much more to the carters than any of them ever could understand, and sam's not sure steve needed to know or see into the levels that family reached.
but he needed to focus. they both needed to focus, but sam is pretty sure bucky is already there - counting bodies, calculating moves. and actually, sam is kind of depending on it, on bucky's tactical awareness of their movements. they're still close enough that each time sam takes a breath, he just about feels bucky's chest pressed against him. he's close enough to catch the smile and sam works to find his footing in all of this, but his eyes are only on bucky, as he's not sure it makes sense for him to scan the room. so he lets trust take over, lets bucky assess. it's still a bit surprising to feel bucky's arm rest on sam's shoulder, to feel the gloved hand on the back of his neck. he feels his cheeks heat up, but he is going to chalk that entirely up to the rising adrenaline of a potential fight. ]
Pretty sure the whole point of dopplegangers is you don't get to pick them. And it worked of us earlier. [ for a short while. but not long, and that's a whole different issue sam is going to have to deal with. for now, it's the contact, it's the unsteady feeling of having to trust zemo to already be moving and have caught onto the plan. sam's mind is starting to speed up, to try and keep up with the quick movements of bucky's eyes. ]
You think he can do it? [ he means zemo, he means the contact, but now bucky is closer still and his eyes are on sam's and okay, alright, the flutter in his chest isn't entirely the fight this time and sam is man enough to admit that. bucky's hand shifts to the back of his head and they're leaning in closer, sam's grin still present and cocky, like someone finally getting the one thing they'd been working towards. in that moment he realizes that yes, actually, he would kiss bucky. could, wouldn't mind. if they kiss. if this is what is about to happen.
that is when it changes - a snap of twine, a switch flicked. he hears the gunshot and feels the pang on the back of his head and then bucky is jerking sam out of the way. he goes with the yank, ducking down behind another table and emerging just as one tries to approach bucky from behind. sam picks up his own bottle, then, crashing it against the back of his head and reaching for the gun, turning back to where the most of the group was still collected.
avoid civilians he can't tell if he yells it at bucky or not, but the thought is there, and sam lets off the rest of the rounds of the gun only towards those he can immediately identify, before ditching the empty weapon and diving behind another table he'd knocked over in the process. ]
We need to leave! [ this one he's sure he yells aloud in bucky's direction, distracted by the gunfire pinging off the table he's hiding behind. ]